Little Boy Blue
by ratedgdr
Summary: Part of the "Saffron Justice" series: Frank Caldwell opens connected cold cases that hit very close to home for him. Investigating gets unpleasantly complicated, however, when certain people and Pokemon re-emerge in his life. Rated M for violence, strong language, alcohol usage, and more lemons, of all sorts, than my previous stories.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Pokemon and related trademarks are the sole property of Nintendo. I only own the original characters in the story.**

**For the record, I wish I could be more sure of when this becomes now. Because I need to adjust the ages of some of the people in the story and any future ones, including some from the games and anime and manga that will be brought in. Also for the record, I'll be following the games and what I remember from the anime far more than the manga.**

**Violent content warning:**

_Then, 1985_

Andrew Caldwell rubbed his eyes as he looked over the photos of the remains again. Of all the cases, this had to be the most unpleasant.

It was what was left of a tiny, decomposed, and half burnt corpse. An infant. Could not have been more than a few months old. There were still several scraps of blue cloth attached to it.

It hit him rather close to home. He had a son that had to be the same age as the victim. It terrified him to think of what could happen, what monster could do such a thing to a child like that. This was a level of cruelty he never thought could exist in Saffron City, or anywhere else in Kanto for that matter.

He looked at the photo of his child on his desk. _Your mother and I would be devastated if we lost you, he thought._

He turned his attention to the stack of missing persons reports in front of him, trying to find someone that would match the description of what had been officially called Baby Doe but was dubbed Little Boy Blue by the press. It had been a fruitless and wearying process thus far, and it wasn't getting any better. He hadn't thought there'd be that many people missing from the regions of Kanto and Johto, but there were.

A man with a thinning hairline came up to him. "Not having any luck, Drew?"

Caldwell shook his head. "None at all, Eddie. No infants reported missing in the past two weeks."

"Well there has to be someone out there who would file a report, right?"

"Not always, but most well-adjusted people would."

Then, from another part of the room, they heard the police lieutenant's voice.

"Hopfmar and Caldwell," Mack Herndon said, "could you come to my office for a minute, please?"

The two detectives wordlessly walked into the office.

"Any luck on Baby Doe?" Herndon asked.

"None," Caldwell replied. "I've searched most of the files and can't find anything that'd come close to his description."

"What about you, Eddie?"

"No luck on my end either, sir."

"Great." He leaned back and shook his head. His dark gray hair seemed to kill all the light that hit it. "The last thing I wanted was for this to go in the cold files, but right now we're going to need a miracle to prevent that from happening."

Caldwell sighed. "We're doing what we can, boss, but there's only so much we can do with what we have."

"Well, try to get more. That's your only option at this point."

"Yes, sir."

Caldwell walked out, leaving Hopfmar standing there. "Sir, I-"

"Drew's not taking this well, is he?" The lieutenant asked him.

"I guess not, no."

"I can't exactly say as I blame him. He's got a kid about that age himself. I know if I were in his shoes I'd be a bit of a wreck too."

Caldwell failed to find anything else in the evidence available to him that would give him a new lead or another clue. He struggled to avoid accepting the fact that he was likely never going to solve this sickening yet baffling murder. He was never one to just give up easily like that, yet it seemed like there was now no other alternative.

He watched the clock as it counted down the minutes before his shift was to end. Outside, a heavy snowfall was steadily blanketing the city in white.

He hadn't expected this when he walked to work that morning.

He glanced back at the photo of his son. Had it really been a few months since he had first gotten to hold the newborn in his arms in the hospital, amazed that the little one seemed so much at silent peace with the world around him?

He sighed again and leaned back in his chair, leaned so hard, in fact, that he toppled over backwards. He quickly got back up and straightened his chair out. Nobody around him so much as blinked.

Soon, his day was done, and, still frustrated over his inability to come up with anything during the investigation, started out for home.

The snow swirled around him like a noisy whisper as the winds picked up. He had at least thought to wear a warm coat to work, but he found that it wasn't exactly doing him much good as he trudged through the snow collecting on the sidewalks and the roads.

The lights from the street lights and the houses guided him on his way towards the outskirts of town, where his wife and child awaited him. After a bad day like today, it would be a comfort for him to come home to something considerably more soothing than what he always had to deal with at work.

He forgot to watch where he was going and walked right into a snowbank as the snowplow made its way through the streets of Saffron, dropping a thin layer of salt and sand as it passed. Pulling himself free, he continued walking, watching the ground to make sure he didn't get stuck again.

It was only a few blocks away now as the lights grew somewhat dimmer. The wind coated his hair with snow, and only a small amount of it melted before more landed.

After several minutes of staring mostly downwards, he looked up, and the expression on his face changed to one of startled confusion.

The sound of gunshots rang out in the air, and Andrew Caldwell collapsed to his back, staring with dead eyes towards the heavens, three dark stains in his chest slowly merging into one, the snow beneath him becoming more and more pink. The footsteps leading towards him and away from him soon became like the man himself as the snow covered up any evidence that someone had left the detective's wife a widow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: I own only the original characters.**

**Language warning:**

_Now_

_I never knew my father._

The words hung in the air like an embarrassment after Frank Caldwell had said them. As he lay on the couch in the office, it seemed like he could almost see them over his head.

The bespectacled Hypno in the chair next to him shifted a bit in his seat. _"As in the two of you never really saw eye to eye on things?" _he asked.

"No, I mean I never knew him," the human replied. "He was murdered when I was only a few months old."

"_My apologies. I should have read a bit more of your file."_

Frank shrugged. "Not sure if they even mentioned it."

"_So did you ever have anything resembling a father figure in your life after that?"_

"I don't think I'd count the men coming in and out of my mother's bedroom as being 'father figures,' doc."

"_I see. So your mother never remarried?"_

"No. I don't think she ever tried to look for anyone after that except for a drunken one-nighter."

"_I see. Was there ever anyone you looked up to as a mentor growing up?"_

"Not that I recall."

"_Interesting."_ He cleared his throat. _"You know, in Papua New Guinea, there is a tribe that-"_

The moment the Hypno said Papua New Guinea, Frank reached to his right side, produced an air horn, and let loose a loud squall. The Psychic Pokemon jumped a bit in his seat and nearly lost his glasses, but he made a sufficient recovery. _"You don't want to talk about Papua New Guinea?"_

"Was it that obvious, doc?"

"_Yes, quite obvious, detective. Moving on. Do you think that your lack of a father figure has maybe had too much of a role in shaping your personality?"_

Frank gave him a cynical glare. The Hypno was about to speak but then he glanced at the clock.

"_Unfortunately, we'll have to end it there for the day. You will remember your appointment in a couple of days, yes?"_

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, doc. I'm out of here. Later," Frank said dismissively as he grabbed his coat and left.

* * *

The winter sun had mostly sunk down by the time Frank pulled into Rochelle's Place, his bar of choice. Work was done. In fact, he had nothing to do that day other than shuffle paperwork around before continuing his required mental therapy sessions.

"As ordered by Madam Bethany Steele," he repeated to himself with a mocking snarl.

He hated the new commissioner. She had flown in from the Sinnoh region shortly after the murder of Mack Herndon, the previous commissioner, by a psychotic anarchist that had briefly terrorized Saffron the previous summer. She turned out to be a by-the-book hardliner, one who was obsessed with rules and regulations to the point where every editor in Kanto and Johto openly questioned her sanity. For the most part, however, she was not excessively harsh on the homicide detectives in her precinct.

Except one: Frank.

From day one, she despised the man. She hated him for treating victims and families with respectful humanity when she wanted cold professionalism. She hated him for his refusal to only look inside the lines whenever a crime was committed, like he did that summer. Most of all, however, she hated him simply because it galled her to have someone on the force get more honor and respect that she did. Throughout the city, Frank Caldwell was hailed as a hero for putting an end to the killing spree that had plagued them, and Commissioner Steele was enraged beyond comparison when, at a charity dinner held by the mayor, Frank had gotten preferential treatment and she didn't, which she felt was unfair to someone of her position.

"Bitch," Frank muttered to himself as he walked into the bar.

A stocky man, sleeves rolled partway up, was wiping down some glasses as Frank sat down. When he saw the detective, his face lit up with a broad smile. "Hey, Frankie! How's it goin'?"

"Eh, terrible, Larry," Frank sighed. "Scotch please."

"Straight up?"

"Nah, ice it."

"Soda, too?"

"Sure, why not."

The bartender mixed the drink up and sat it in front of him. "Commish on your ass again?"

"As usual." Frank took a swig. "You'd think she'd be an equal opportunity hater and go after Stuart too, but she's got a bad grudge against me so he's safe."

"How is he doin', anyway? He never comes in here much anymore."

Frank shrugged. "He thinks the gay scene would be better in Celadon, so he goes there to try to find someone these days."

"No luck?"

"Not exactly, to hear him tell it."

Just then, the door opened, and a woman walked in, sitting down at the far end of the bar, away from anyone else. "A shot, please. For my son."

Larry wordlessly walked over, got her a shot of scotch, and set it in front of her. She downed it quickly, set her money on the bar, and walked away, her light blonde hair not doing anything to take away from the tired lines on her face. As far as Frank could tell, she had to be in her mid- to late forties at least.

Other customers had entered by the time Frank was able to focus himself on his own drink, and Larry did not see him finish the contents of his glass, set payment nearby, and leave.

* * *

It was not exactly a pleasant prospect for Frank, an officer of the law, to be trying to drive home in the snow with any alcohol in his system, but he did anyway. And as he drove, he thought of another female, one who had come into his life for a few short days that summer. It never had occurred to him then that they would actually fall in love, but when she was almost killed working on the same case he was working on, they did. It ended up taking on a strongly sexual nature, but they loved every moment of it, and they were both relieved when they had finally brought down the killer.

It would have been fairly normal. If she wasn't a Gardevoir, anyway.

"Victoria," he softly said to himself, "wherever did you go?"

He turned into the driveway and slammed on the brakes in shock.

Standing in the middle of the driveway was a thin, pale woman, her red hair the same shade as his and closely cropped in a thin pixie cut. Her cheeks were flushed, not with the cold but with liquor as she stood next to several pieces of luggage.

"HI, SWEETIE, GLAD TO SEE YOU'RE HOME!" she yelled a bit too loudly.

_Dear God, no, _he thought to himself. _OH, FUCK NO! DON'T TELL ME MY MOTHER'S MOVING IN WITH ME!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's mote: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.**

**OK, time to launch into the sex right away! It's only chapter three and I'm breakin' out the hot stuff, baby! AWWWWWWWWWWW YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH HHHH!**

…**.OK, I'm calm now.**

**Language and strong sexual content warning. VERY STRONG sexual content warning, and that's gonna come up a LOT, and it just gets stronger in later chapters. Thankfully I'll have actual story mixed in between the erotic chapters:**

_Now_

For some unknown reason, she was waking up.

Her eyelids fluttered open and she turned her head to look at the clock.

_It's only 3:30 in the morning?! _she thought to herself. _What am I doing awake?_

She felt a slight itch at the top of her cleavage, so she silently scratched at it for a few moments, pulling the sheets down and exposing her naked breasts to the evening air. The itch having subsided, she let her arm flop off the side of the bed.

All of a sudden, a light blue arm came thudding down on her, not so much hurting her as startling her. She turned her head and the shiny Gallade lying naked under the covers next to her let out a loud snore.

_Goddamnit, Tristan, _Victoria Stillwater thought.

Tristan made a few snorting noises and a short groan before turning onto his side. _"You still awake?" _he asked her.

"_Now I am. Thanks a lot, Tristan."_

"_God, what time is it, anyway?"_

"_Half past three."_

"_Shit, that's all?"_

She rolled her eyes in the dark. _"I would think so."_

"_You know, we're going to have to try that position again one of these nights," _he remarked.

"_Yeah, and maybe that time I won't get cum up my nose. Nice power and range, but piss poor aim."_

"_I wasn't trying to aim for your nose. It was supposed to go to your mouth."_

"_I'll attach a sign next time. 'CUM GOES HERE.'"_

"_Can it go somewhere else?"_

Victoria sighed. _"This is getting us nowhere, Tristan."_

He propped himself up on one of his broad arms. _"Well, do you have a better idea?"_

She replied by pouncing him, giggling as she locked him into a kiss. Further down, she could feel him getting harder as she ground against him. _"Let's waste a few more minutes of the night," _she begged him.

"_That sounds better," _he said as they resumed their kissing, her delicate slit rubbing up and down the length of him until he finally broke free. He rolled her on her back, propped himself up on his broad arms, and pushed into her, all seven and a half inches gliding in her tight yet wet vagina as she let out a pleasured moan. He slowly pulled out, more from a bit of drowsiness than trying to increase her sensations, then pushed in faster, speeding up the thrusts as he lowered himself and she put her arms around him. She held on tightly to the Gallade both inside and out as her breaths were mixed with her moans, increasing in pitch with every penetration, her breasts adding more pleasure as Tristan's body massaged them as he moved.

Finally, they could hold on no longer, and as her body tightened around him, he pushed himself inside her as far as he could go and they both came, the warmth of his orgasm burning in her like a lust-driven wildfire as he felt her release as well.

They remained in each others' arms for a while before Tristan pulled out and rolled away.

"_Think we can sleep now?" _he asked her.

"_We better. We've both got to get to work in the morning."_

"_Good point," _he said as he dozed off.

Victoria, drained of any remaining energy, simply drifted off.

* * *

Victoria deftly slid the car to a stop in her parking space at the Pokebureau before shutting it off and heading inside the main building. After clearing security, she went straight to her desk and logged into her computer. It seemed like another quiet day, so she furtively logged into a chat room and waited.

Soon a message popped up:

_hey there_

She glanced up and was not the least bit surprised to see Tristan smirking at her from over the top of his monitor. She typed her reply:

_y u no stay 4 breakfast?_

_thought you were full after last night_

_yeah, keep that quiet, OK?_

She noticed him hang his head in mock penance, then:

_going commando yet?_

_not in office tristan_

_awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww…._

_were fucking dead if we get caught_

_i dare you to xerox your pussy_

_maybe i will. later, maybe?_

_didn't say it had to be now_

Before she could reply, there was a yell, a psychic one, but quite the yell nonetheless.

"_Yo HO, everybodaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy yyyy!"_ shouted Owen Hershowitz, the Pokebureau's Branch Director of the Kanto/Johto Branch and perhaps the looniest Alakazam in either region. _"To the main conference room, I got some great news!"_

Victoria shrugged and headed for the room, Tristan close behind.

* * *

The two had barely sat down when Owen took the podium. _"Now, as many of you might recall, this past summer, we were able to help the Saffron City Police Department prevent an international crisis and end a string of brutal slayings that had terrorized the city. As a result, the Pokemon Bureau of Investigation will now be expanding its work into human cases by working with the police departments in the various regions. I have been charged to set up sub-branches of the Pokebureau starting with the major cities in our jurisdiction. I believe it is altogether fitting that we open the very first sub-branch in Saffron City."_

There was some applause. _"Hell of a long way from Goldenrod,"_ Tristan muttered.

Owen continued, _"It is my honor to announce the first two agents to be assigned to the Saffron sub-branch: Agents Tristan O'Meara and Victoria Stillwater!"_

There was cheering and more applause as Tristan smiled proudly, but a look of sheer dread crossed Victoria's face.

_Oh sweet Arceus in heaven not this, _she thought, hoping that nobody else could hear her thoughts. _For the love of God not this. The last thing I need is Tristan finding out about Frank…._


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.**

**I realize this story is going to seem a lot slower paced than "Watcher" was. Then again, I don't have a lot of breakneck pace action to put into this story, either.**

**By the way, I decided to bring a certain character into the story starting next chapter. I'm gonna have fun with some of this, you can count on that….**

**Language and near violence warning:**

A loud and repeated thudding sound awoke Frank before his alarm clock could go off.

_That's a familiar sound,_ he thought, rolling his eyes.

He got out of bed, put on his pajama pants and a t-shirt since he had only slept in his boxers, and walked to the kitchen.

What he saw, he had expected: his mother was pouring shots of vodka and downing them with alarming frequency. From the looks of things, she had downed enough to put her in what seemed like a pleasantly catatonic stupor. Much to Frank's annoyance, the bottle, which had been nearly full the last time he saw it, had been drastically depleted in contents.

He could take it no more. Marching right to the table, he moved the bottle out of his mother's reach. "For God's sake, Mom, that's enough already!" he snapped.

She looked up at him, still dazed. "Oh, relax, honey, I've only had a couple of shots so far."

"A couple of shots?! You damn near drank half the bottle already!"

She slowly turned her head to look. "Aw, it's not that bad."

"Not that bad?! Do you even realize how expensive this is?"

"Calm down, they had it at the store for a couple of bucks last time I remember."

"And the way you drink, that 'couple of bucks' adds up."

She said nothing, but instead she got up and uneasily staggered to the bathroom.

* * *

Frank was relieved to be at work, therefore, even if it only meant shuffling paperwork around his desk.

Nearby, Stuart McManus was staring blankly at his computer screen, his black bangs almost over his eyes now. Frank walked over and saw that he was looking at a blank document.

"Writer's block?" Frank asked.

"More like mental block overall," was the reply. "I'm kinda just tired right now."

"Well, did you get any sleep last night?"

"No choice. Couldn't find anybody in Celadon. It's hell being a cop. It's also hell being a gay cop." He rubbed his forehead wearily.

Frank caught a smell in his nose. "When did you start smoking again?"

Stuart wasn't paying much attention. "Huh?"

"I asked you when you started smoking again."

"How could you tell?"

"You smell like you're a few rows short of an acre of tobacco right now."

Stuart sighed. "I should get me some patches. Or gum. Whichever works best."

"You've had no luck at all, have you?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

* * *

After mindless amounts of what added up to nothing accomplished, Frank had no desire to go home yet to a drunken parent. Instead, he went straight to Rochelle's Place. He parked just short of the snowbank in the middle of the parking lot and walked in.

"Hey, Frank!" yelled Larry as he entered. "Lucky day, you're the only one here for me to talk to!"

"Yay," Frank replied flatly.

"Something wrong?"

"Yeah. My mom moved in with me last night."

"Oh, I'll bet that's a load of fun."

"She started right on the vodka this morning, too. Speaking of which, one dry martini, shaken."

"Comin' right up."

He mixed the drink and set it in front of the detective, who uncharacteristically drained half of it in one gulp.

"That bad, eh?" asked Larry.

"That obvious?"

Just then the blonde woman from the previous evening walked in and sat down. "One shot for my son, please."

Frank quickly downed the rest of his drink and set the money on the bar, just after she had done the same. As she walked past, he got up and followed her out.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said, trying to catch up to her as the snow began to gently fall again, "I wanted to ask if maybe you'd-"

Before he could finish, she reached into her coat pocket and swung around to face him, a tazer in her hand. "Get away from me!" she yelled.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" reacted a startled Frank. "You don't understand-"

"I know what you're trying to do!" she screamed. "You're one of those sick, perverted freaks who just wants to get me drunk so you can drug me before dragging me off, raping me, cutting my throat, and dumping my naked body in the woods somewhere to rot! I know your type! Now get away from me before I shock you in the balls so hard you'll never be able to pass for a man again!"

"Ma'am, I'm only out here because I overheard what you said in the bar about your son! That's ALL I came out here about!"

"BULLSHIT!" she screamed as she aimed for his crotch.

"Look, ma'am, I'm a detective with the Saffron City Police Department. You need to put that thing away."

"BULLSHIT!"

"Look, I'll toss you my badge, but you need to put that goddamned tazer away!" He swiftly reached into his pocket and before she could pull the trigger, he tossed it on the ground in front of her. She bent over to pick it up, still aiming. She straightened up and looked at it before tossing it back to him and putting the tazer in her pocket again.

"What's it to you? My son is none of your business, so why do you care?"

"Look, if he's in trouble or something-"

"He's been missing since he was a few months old, and nobody from the department wants to look for him, so why should-"

"I can help you find him, but you need to trust me."

"Forget it. No one has looked since 1985, and the last one who did was shot and they decided to shuffle it into the cold file."

"What was the detective's name? I can go through his notes and see what I can do to re-open the case."

She sighed. "His name was Caldwell. Andrew Caldwell."

Frank nearly dropped his badge in shock. "What?"

"You heard me! His name was-"

"Oh my God," he half-mumbled, stunned. "That was my father. He died when I was just a baby-"

"That explains why he was so obsessed with trying to find my son. He was probably about your age when he disappeared. I seem to be the only one who thinks he's alive." She snorted. "What's your name, anyway? I'm assuming the last name is Caldwell, too."

"Yeah, it is. The name's Frank Caldwell."

"You'd actually help me find my son?"

"If it means I find out who killed my father as well, then yes. Hell, I'll do it anyway so you don't taze me."

"Thank you, Detective Caldwell. God, I haven't said that in years. And I'm sorry I freaked out earlier. I've been watching too many 'true crime' shows lately."

Frank was relieved. "I'll do what I can."

"I'm Angela Wikstrom, by the way. My son's name is Jeremy."

"Well, Mrs. Wikstrom, I'm going to make sure this case gets closed, all right?"

"Thank you, detective. I really should be getting home now."

She walked to her car, and Frank waited until she left before getting in his own and driving away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: I own only the original characters.**

**In case you're wondering, Victoria and Tristan will be in the story again soon.**

**By the way, I still welcome reviews. I know this is part of a bigger series, but I hope the lack of reviews isn't indicating a lack of interest.**

**Language and an even stronger sexual content warning than for chapter three:**

Frank did not go home right away, however.

Instead, he drove back to the precinct and walked right back in.

Double-checking the directory of locations, he walked to the room containing all of the cold cases and pulled out two boxes. One read WIKSTROM, JEREMY JACOB and the other read CALDWELL, ANDREW CORIOLANUS. He carried them to his desk, and in the faint light from the few ceiling lights still lit, he began reading.

With Jeremy Wikstrom, there was very little. As far as Frank could tell, the baby had been in his crib but had vanished. No evidence was recovered that could point to any viable suspect.

With his own father, it was not much better: three shots to the chest from a .45, no footprints as it had been snowing that night, no suspects. He noticed that his father had been working on the case of an unidentified infant that had been burned beyond recognition. The name was Baby Doe but a newspaper clipping called it "Little Boy Blue."

Frank sighed and went back to the cold room and searched. Eventually, he found the file and took it back to the desk. He began to sift through it and was appalled at the crime scene photos.

"Who the fuck would do that to a baby?" he wondered. "Sick fucks like that-"

"_Frank? What are you doing here?"_

Jumping slightly, he turned and saw Alex, the department's "techno-Gengar," giving him a puzzled look.

"I'm just looking at re-opening a few cold cases," the human replied.

"_Well, do that when you're more rested up. You can see things better through fresher eyes than tired ones. I'm heading home. See you tomorrow, Frank."_

He walked off. Frank sat there a while, then decided that the Ghost/Poison-type was right.

* * *

The cold air hit him again along with some snowflakes as he walked to the parking lot. When he got there, however, he got quite the surprise.

A woman was sitting on the hood of his car, her long, blue-gray hair cascading over her shoulders. Her winter coat was opened to reveal a dark blue dress that only went to her knees. Her high heeled shoes matched her hair as she gave him a seductive stare. "Well, look who's all semi-official looking this time of night," she purred.

A smile twisted one corner of Frank's mouth. "Do I want to know what you're doing here, Karen?"

The Dark-type Elite Four member leaned forward, still smiling. "I heard the rumors that the former champion of Johto and Kanto was now a detective. I decided that seeing was believing. So? Is it true?"

"Yes. Have been for a couple of years now. You must not get news very fast."

"Sad. I'd hoped you'd do better than that."

"Taking down Team Rocket again and stopping a lone wolf anarchist from destroying computer systems isn't better?"

She just giggled in reply.

"What are you doing here, anyway, Karen?"

"Oh, nothing much, I'm just in town for a couple of weeks on business. Very special business."

Frank walked over to her. "Don't you think it's a little cold to be sitting on metal like that?"

"My, my, my, since when did YOU become so concerned about little ol' me?"

"You're not THAT much older than me."

"A few years."

"Not that many."

"That's not answering my question."

"I'd hate to see you get chilled. Want me to drive you to a hotel?"

"I can't stay at your place for the night?"

"Well, I-"

"Good!" She slid off the hood and before Frank could stop her, she had gotten in the car and put her seat belt on. "What are you waiting for? Let's go!"

Frank sighed, more inwardly than outwardly, and got in next to her. "I was going to say, my mother just moved in with me last night, much to my dismay."

"SHE moved in with YOU?! Most times, it's the other way around."

"She's a serious alcoholic. Only good thing about that is she may be asleep when we get there so I don't have to worry about her making you feel uncomfortable."

"There's not a lot that makes me uncomfortable, Frank."

She scooted as close as she could to him without needing to take off her seat belt as he drove through the falling snow to his home.

* * *

Frank was the one who saw the note on the kitchen table, and he picked it up and scanned it while Karen leaned on the wall.

"Well, what did it say?" she asked.

He tossed the note carelessly to the floor. "She went to bed early after draining a couple glasses of scotch. Nothing's changed with her."

She raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"She's been like that all my life," he replied, shaking his head. "Ever since my dad died when I was a few months old, to hear some other members of the family tell it."

"Your dad died? What happened? Did your mom ever tell you?"

"Yeah, he was gunned down in the street while investigating a couple of other cases. I'm re-opening those along with his since none of them were ever solved."

"Th-th-that's just terrible, Frank!"

"I'll spare you further details." He went for the liquor cabinet. "And it looks like she has everything in here shuffled around so I don't know where some things are now."

"Wine will be all right for me, please. Red wine, preferably."

"I've got a Cabernet I haven't touched in a while."

"Sounds lovely, Frank."

"Hang on, I'll grab that and a couple of glasses."

"Trust me, before too long, I'll probably just be taking swigs straight from the bottle."

Frank gave her a cynical look. "Shame on you."

She smiled that sultry smile she had given him at the precinct. "Me? Have shame? What are you insinuating?"

He set the bottle and glasses on the table. "You didn't come here on business, did you, Karen?"

"Are you suggesting I only came here because of you?"

"Are you?"

"No!" She paused. "Not entirely."

Frank said nothing. Instead, he poured two glasses full of the dark red wine and pushed one towards her.

"You have a problem with me wanting to see you again, Frank?"

The detective sighed. "I'm sorry, Karen, I didn't mean it like that."

"Of course you didn't. If you did, you would have made that clear earlier. You're under too much stress right now, Frank."

"How could you tell?" he asked, a cynical edge in his voice.

"You drank that entire glass of wine without coming up for air."

Startled, Frank looked at his glass and realized that she was right. Instinctively, he reached for the bottle to refill, but she was quicker and she lifted it to her lips with one hand and took a long gulp before setting it down. "Fortunately," she continued, "I think I know how I can help you."

"If it involves sex, you're gonna need to give me a minute to think about it. In the meantime, you should drink what you have in the glass before you get anymore from the bottle."

He turned away and walked to the sink. He set his glass on the side, then turned around.

In the few seconds that it took him to get rid of his glass, Karen had climbed on top of the table and was facing him, propping herself up by one arm, her glass in her free hand. The bottle sat within her reach.

"You know, Frank," she said, "all this talk about your work and your family and all of your stress has really left me thirsty." She took a sip from her glass. "But this wine just isn't cutting it. I need something a little more… satisfying."

She set the glass down and pulled the bottle towards her. "And you want to know something?" she asked as she began to sensuously lick the neck of the bottle, "You look like you haven't had any fun in a while, big boy. Maybe we can play a little game or something, you know, to just help you relax a little."

A smile hit the corner of Frank's mouth. "It's kinda hard to relax when you're doing that, you know."

"Oh, really?" she queried. "How hard? Hard like this glass bottle?"

She wrapped her lips around the top of the bottle and began moving her head suggestively. Frank chuckled as he stepped towards her. "OK, OK, I get the point already."

He took the glass and she handed him the bottle. "Don't take too long putting everything away," she sighed. "I really want to start playing now."

All Frank did was turn and set them on the nearest counter and then turn back towards her. Without hesitating, she reached for his belt and undid the buckle. She then pulled the belt away with one motion and tossed it to the floor.

"Nice pull," Frank could not help but say.

Karen just gave him a sultry smile before unbuttoning his black jeans and pulling down his zipper. She then reached under the waistband of his boxers and pulled down, exposing the almost seven inches of him that was growing harder by the second. With her right hand, she began to stroke him back and forth as he leaned on the edge of the table with his left hand.

Then she moved forward and enclosed him in her warm mouth before moving closer to him, taking a little more with each movement as Frank decided to give up trying to support himself with the table. Instead, he began to stroke her hair with his right hand while simultaneously letting his left glide up the side of her leg, going up her dress as he continued along her slim abdomen towards her breasts. Once there, he slipped his hand under her bra and cupped her right breast, gently squeezing and rubbing it and making her gasp slightly around him.

She started to pick up speed, but he placed his hand sideways across his penis, stopping her. "Can't let you have all the fun, Karen," he told her, rolling her onto her back as he spoke. "Plus I don't want it to end too soon."

She gave him a teasing little pout. "I wasn't trying to-"

Frank silenced her by pressing his lips to hers. They kissed for a few moments as he pushed her dress and bra up over her breasts. With his thumbs, he began to play with her nipples, causing her to groan into his mouth as their tongues mingled. He then moved his hands down her sides, but stopped midway and broke the kiss.

"Hot as this is, I think we'd be better off on a considerably softer surface," he got out.

"Yeah, that and it'd be hell to clean this table," she agreed.

Their clothes still disheveled and him impeded by his pants being pulled partly down, he still picked her up and carried her to his bedroom, lowering his head to lick her nipples on the way and causing her to nearly fall out of his arms. They made it to the bed, however, and he set her down and got undressed while she did the same. She lay on her back and spread her legs for him, and as he got on the bed he began to run his tongue along her soft, inviting slit, her back arching with every sensation that hit her. Frank had to admit to himself that she was right: it had been quite some time since his last sexual encounter, although in his lust for Karen he had forgotten when that was and didn't care.

"Ooh, Frank, can't I have a little fun too?" she whimpered.

He stopped and looked up at her. "I think it's actually supposed to be both our turns."

She sat up and pushed him down before turning so her vulva was facing him while she could get her mouth around him again. He felt the warmth of her breath and the softness of her lips as she moved along his cock, and then he felt her moans vibrate around him as he darted his tongue inside her. She had gotten wetter and wetter inside, and the taste of her was intoxicating to him.

She suddenly stopped sucking him and was now whimpering incessantly as he continued to work on her. "Please don't make me cum now, Frank, I don't want this feeling to end!"

He stopped and turned her around. She leaned forward and kissed him before taking him inside her, letting loose a louder groan than before as she began to bounce on him. Her head began to thrash around, her hair spilling in front of her face as he reached forward and played with her breasts with one hand while rubbing her clit with the other.

_Damn, I don't think either of us can hold back much longer, _he thought.

"Oh god, Frank, I'm so going to fucking cum right now!" she cried out as he slid around inside her slick vagina, driving ever deeper with every movement of her body. Her cheeks and breasts were flushed an orgasmic red that was as beautiful as she herself was.

"Go right ahead, I think I'm gonna cum too at this rate," he said between breaths.

She leaned forward again and he held her to him as he thrust harder and further, and within seconds she clenched around him as they came together, the warmth of their respective fluids bringing them closer together in mind and spirit.

She went limp in his arms from the strength of her orgasm, and he, spent himself, let her roll to his side.

"That was so fucking amazing, Frank," she gasped.

"You're not too bad yourself, Karen."

"Yeah, you're just as good as I heard."

He suddenly looked at her. "As good as you heard?"

She turned to face him. "I hear you get around quite a bit, Frank Caldwell. I hesitate to use the word 'conquests,' but you've certainly been linked to quite a few great women around the regions."

"Who told you that?"

"Maybe I heard it from a couple of those you've slept with before."

"Name them."

"Name who?"

"The ones I've been linked to."

"I heard from Flannery herself that she was your first time."

"Perhaps she was. Perhaps she wasn't."

"Misty."

"Don't make me laugh."

"Janine."

"Nah. She still hates me because I whipped her father's ass when I won that badge. Swept. Completely swept."

"Erika."

"I thought you said Flannery was my first."

"You didn't go back?"

"Erika and I are friends. But no."

"Lorelei."

"I'm a sucker for redheads, what can I say? Or most, anyway."

"She told me you two were going for hours on end."

Frank merely rolled his eyes.

"Anyone from Sinnoh I should know about?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

"I'll stick with Hoenn. Roxanne."

"So I went back to her after I won the Championship. So what?"

"Clair says you went back too."

"She did, did she?"

"She told me she told you she liked to play the dominant. Then again, she also told me that she wanted you to give it to her rough."

"What about you? What about YOUR sexual exploits?"

"I even heard that you and Sabrina are more than just friends."

"You're not answering my question."

She laughed. "Sweetie, when I feel a need and there's no man around, I have my ways of staying satisfied. You're good at communicating with Dark-type Pokemon. Ask my Umbreon if you don't believe me."

"I think I'll pass, thanks."

"Don't tell me that you haven't ever seen a graceful looking Pokemon and got hard in your pants. That Gardevoir I saw you with in those newspaper photos-"

She was silenced by his kiss as they started anew.

* * *

The sounds of hard rock in his ears woke Frank up the next morning. The winter sun had not yet risen.

He turned in his bed and saw that she was gone. All there was was a note where she had been.

He grabbed it, turned on the lamp near his clock, and read:

_Hey big boy, had a great time. Maybe we should do it again before I leave._

_Karen_

He dropped the note on the floor.

"Story of my life some days," he sighed.

_Damn straight,_ said a voice.

"Oh no," he groaned. "Not YOU again."

_Yep._


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: Pokemon and related trademarks are the sole property of Nintendo and Game Freak.**

**For the record, there will be at least four more stories in the Saffron Justice series following this one. One of those will be a crossover with another, MUCH darker, series that I will start sometime after either this story or the next one.**

**Language warning:**

Hopfmar did not have a pleasant look on his face as Frank walked in. "The Commissioner is in her office," he informed him. "She's hunting your head for some reason."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Tell me something I don't know."

Before Hopfmar could say anything to try to calm the younger man down, he was already to the office door and he opened without bothering to knock.

Bethany Steele gave him a cold glance over the top of her small wire-rimmed glasses. "Shut the door, Detective Caldwell," she ordered in a voice as frigid as her personality. Her long, blonde hair belied her businesswoman-like attitude as it framed a face as austere and narrow as her clothing.

In a minor gesture of defiance, Frank kicked backwards, knocking the door shut.

"I heard you came back to the precinct after your regularly scheduled shift was over and decided to do case work," she informed him.

"So?" was his flat reply.

"We have set schedules for a reason, detective. When your workday is done, you leave and do not come back unless ordered or scheduled. Understand?"

Frank snorted derisively. "Where I come from, justice doesn't give a shit about schedules. If something has to get done, it gets done as soon as possible, not whenever your little time clock feels like it."

"I don't think you understand how much of a drain overtime pay puts on this city's budget."

"You're actually going to put politics ahead of doing what's right?"

"It's not politics, detective-"

"Well, it sure as hell sounds like it, commissioner!" Frank snapped, the rage refusing to hide.

She was about to respond when there was a sudden barrage of pounding on the door, accompanied by what Frank could telepathically sense was somebody singing jazz scat. The door suddenly flew open, and an Alakazam in an ill-fitting business suit slid in, holding a psychic note. He stopped singing and stuck out a paw.

"_Good morning, Commissioner Steele, I'm Owen Hershowitz, Director of the Kanto/Johto Branch of the Pokebureau!"_ he half-shouted.

"Yes, I know," replied a clearly irritated Steele. "I was warned you might be coming."

"'_Warned'? You make it sound undesirable."_

"In a sense it is."

"_Well, it isn't. I was just letting you know that Saffron's City Council approved plans to allow the Pokebureau to open a sub-branch right here in Saffron, and two of my best agents are on the way as we speak!"_

"WHAT?!"

"_We're expanding to human cases as well, so we're looking forward to working with the Saffron police to-"_

"Well, I'm not!" she barked. "This is an intrusion on my department and I will not stand for it!"

Hershowitz suddenly grew serious. _"Commissioner, I know you have some bizarrely inflated sense of self-worth and such, but might I remind you that politically and professionally speaking, I AM your superior. I don't think your ego would take too kindly to being humiliated in front of the City Council, am I right?"_

Steele looked like she wanted to swallow a bucket of razor wire. Instead, she sat down and glared at the Pokemon and Frank, who was trying to stay out of the discussion. She opened her mouth to speak, but Hopfmar knocked on the doorframe.

"Commissioner? The Pokebureau agents are here," he informed her.

She sighed. "Send them in," she groaned, feeling defeated, which she knew she was.

Frank's jaw nearly hit the floor moments later.

Victoria Stillwater walked in, wearing a light green pantsuit that would have matched her hair if she wasn't a shiny. Her blouse was open just enough for her horn, and thus some cleavage that Frank knew very well, to show. Seeing her again, as beautiful as he had remembered, brought back a flood of memories.

Next to her, however, was a shiny Gallade.

The Gallade was wearing a standard black suit and tie, with the tie falling on one side of his horn, which his shirt was buttoned around. There was a cut in the back of the suit jacket for the other part of his horn to protrude through. A pair of amber colored sunglasses were hanging from his shirt pocket.

"_Commissioner, allow me to introduce Agents Victoria Stillwater and Tristan O'Meara,"_ Hershowitz said.

Steele did not move, so the Alakazam turned to Frank. _"You're the great Detective Frank Caldwell, am I correct?"_

"Yes, sir."

"_Good! Agent Stillwater, this-"_

"_We've met,"_ Victoria interrupted.

"_Haha, silly me, I forgot. Agent O'Meara, this is that detective I was telling you about, Frank Caldwell. He's the one who took out that killer hacker a few months ago."_

"It was a joint effort. Victoria played a huge part in it as well," Frank reminded him.

Tristan put out his hand. _"Pleased to make your acquaintance, detective."_

Frank took it, albeit with some hesitation. "Same here."

Hershowitz began rubbing his paws together feverishly. _"So, detective, is there anything you're working on right now that my two agents can help you with?"_

"Try three connected somethings. Trust me, I can use all the help I can get, I think."

"Yes, get them out of here," snarled the Commissioner. "NOW."

"Right this way," Frank said, leading them out of the office as Steele slumped lower in her chair with rage.

Along the way, Hopfmar stopped to point out things of interest in the building to Hershowitz and Tristan, so Frank and Victoria continued to walk to his desk.

"So, you happy to be coming over here permanently?" he asked her.

"_Well, not exactly,"_ she admitted.

"Why? We worked great together then. Why can't we now?"

"_That's not the problem, Frank, it's just…."_

She stopped. "It's just what?"

The Gardevoir sighed. _"I was kinda hoping that he wouldn't find out about you and me and what we did then, Frank. Tristan's my boyfriend."_

Frank came to a sudden halt.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.**

**This is not as good a chapter as I had wanted, but I need to get some of the other critical characters brought in starting now.**

**Language warning:**

Frank shoved the unidentified infant's file towards the two Pokebureau agents, trying to avoid eye contact. Victoria's bombshell about Tristan being her boyfriend had left him shaken up. _It's almost like she forgot about us,_ he thought, somewhat resentfully.

He heard Tristan mutter a string of expletives under his breath as he saw the crime scene photos. It was his guess that the shiny Gallade had not seen something that disturbing in his career, let alone his entire life. Then he heard Victoria exhale deeply and assumed that she had seen the photos as well.

"_When was the last time anyone was questioned about any of these?"_ she finally asked.

"Probably not since my father's death," Frank replied.

He could feel the two Pokemon staring at him.

"But I guess it's not too late to start again," he added, pulling out some papers and scanning through them. "First person I can think of is Harvey Wikstrom, Jeremy's uncle."

"_You can't talk to his father?"_ Tristan asked.

"I would if he were still alive," was the reply. "He committed suicide a couple of weeks after my father was killed. One shot to the face was enough."

"_Might be as good a time as any to start questioning again."_

"Right." Frank stood up. "Victoria, I think I'll let you catch up some more on those files. I'll fill Tristan in on the way to talk to Harvey."

"_But-"_ she began.

"We'll be right back," he interrupted, trying to avoid any problems he feared would arise.

Victoria watched her boyfriend and the man who was once her lover walk away, wondering, _What the fuck did I do wrong?_

* * *

It seemed to Tristan like there was no shortage of canine Pokemon in the neighborhood as the barking, confined as it was in people's houses in winter, was incessant enough to almost drown out the knocks on Harvey Wikstrom's door. Somehow, the occupant heard the banging and he opened the door. "Can I help you?" he asked.

Frank held up his badge. "Detective Caldwell, Saffron P.D.. This is Agent O'Meara from the Pokebureau. We wanted to ask you some questions about your nephew's disappearance."

Harvey seemed surprised. "What, do you mean Jeremy? Nobody's come around to ask in years. I thought you people had given up on the case."

"Well, it's been re-opened."

"Oh, I see." The older man, his hairline thinning considerably but still coming over his ears in stringy gray lengths, stepped back. "You two might as well come in. I get the feeling that this may be a while."

"Thanks."

The two walked in and Harvey closed the door behind them. "You'll have to forgive the mess, detectives. I live alone these days. Haven't had a girl in years. Coffee, either of you?"

"No thank you," Frank replied. Harvey turned to Tristan, who shook his head.

"Please, sit down," said the homeowner, motioning with his left arm towards the kitchen table. The three each took chairs and sat down as asked. "Now what was it you wanted to ask me, gentlemen?"

"When was the last time you saw your nephew, Mr. Wikstrom?" Frank began.

The older man took a deep breath. "Oh, gosh, it must have been the day before he disappeared. Happy little baby, that he was. My brother never looked so happy in his life himself. I don't think he ever smiled before then after our mother died. She hung herself, you see. Funny thing. She had a lot of mental issues, but nobody knew about them until it was too late."

A thought hit Frank. "Was he wearing anything blue, did you notice?"

"No, why?"

"Just a hunch. Was there ever any problems in your brother's marriage, did you notice?"

"What? No! Dave and Angela were as perfect a couple as any I'd ever seen. My brother sure found himself a catch. Which is why it was so sad when he killed himself. Maybe our mother passed down her troubles to him."

He went silent after that, and Frank could think of nothing else to ask. "Well," the detective finally asked, "did they have problems with anyone else?"

Harvey seemed to be deep in thought for a few moments, then he looked up. "Yeah, there was some skinhead guy, kept showing up and raising heck. I say skinhead because he shaved his head, not because he was some racist or something. I think he had some weird tattoos as well, but I don't remember them."

"Do you know his name?"

"Ask Angela. She'd probably know. I never went up to the guy. Scared me half to death."

Frank got up and reached into his pocket. "If you think of anything else," he said, setting his business card on the table, "let me know, all right?"

Harvey picked it up and looked at it. "Caldwell. That's a familiar last name. The last detective to show up here, his last name was Caldwell too. You maybe related in some way or something?"

"Do you remember his first name?"

"I think it was Ambrose or Andrew or something like that, yeah."

"Then that was my father. He had the case before I did."

"Well, if you see him again, tell him he needs to get his butt in gear. Can't make you do all the work."

"I would, but I'd have to go back in time. He's been dead for twenty-five years."

"My mistake."

* * *

For much of the drive back, the detective and his Gallade counterpart were silent. It was the latter who broke it.

"_What was that question about what he was wearing for?"_ he asked.

"I'm hoping not, but let's just assume that Baby Doe and Jeremy Wikstrom are the same person."

"_For fuck's sake, Frank, that's just awful."_

"That's why I hope I'm wrong," Frank replied as they came to a stop in the parking lot. "The only way I can be sure, though, is a DNA test. And even with the state-of-the-art equipment we have, I have no idea how long that would take. And Angela Wikstrom is under the impression her son is still alive."

"_That length of time? I doubt it."_

"I know. But I don't know if there's any way to prove me wrong about my hunch."

* * *

Victoria was quiet as Tristan drove to the hotel.

"_Still thinking over what we told you?" _he asked her. They had filled her in on their questioning when they had returned, and as far as Tristan could tell, she was ruminating on that.

"_Yeah, yeah I am,"_ she said, barely audible.

"_Jeez, Victoria, you've been moody ever since we got here today. What's gotten into you?"_

Victoria closed her eyes, reluctant to talk. _Oh, fuck it,_ she thought. _I might as well tell him now and get it over with. "It's Frank."_

"_Yeah, what about him? He seems like a fairly nice kind of guy to me."_

"_Remember that case I said I had worked on with him last summer?"_

"_Yeah, what about it?"_

"_Well, I had gotten in a car wreck while working on that case because the killer wanted me dead as well to make sure there was no chance he got caught. Well, Frank was the first person I saw when I woke up in the hospital, and from what I heard, he was worried to tears about me the whole time I was out."_

"_Well, that's sweet of him. I don't see what the problem is with that."_

"_It didn't end there."_

"_Oh?"_

Victoria sighed again. _"I got out of the hospital and he took me to his place for a few drinks and then…."_

She went silent.

"_Then what?" _Tristan persisted.

She sighed again. _"And then we had sex."_

She glanced out the corner of her eye to look at him. If he was reacting, he wasn't showing it. _"But that was last summer, right?"_ he asked.

"_Yes, but-"_

"_Then what are you freaking out for? You had one night-"_

"_Two. We did it again the next night after we wrapped the case up."_

"_Whatever, so it was two nights. I don't give a fuck. You moved on, he probably moved on, end of story, nothing to worry about. Besides, sexual relations between Pokemon and humans are not as rare as you think."_

"_So, you're not-"_

"_Upset? Why would I be upset?"_

Victoria didn't reply, so Tristan kept driving. But her attitude struck him as odd. _There's something not quite right going on here, _he mused.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: I only own the original characters.**

**Language and very strong sexual content warning, along with an unusual cameo warning or two. Not like that's necessarily a bad thing:**

Frank looked at the note in his hand and sighed. He had to go to the shrink tomorrow, along with having to do some more questioning. Plus, he wanted to take some time and hit the workout center. He hadn't done that in a while.

Thankfully, work was done for the day, and he was happy to leave.

He took one step towards the parking lot and heard a crunching sound in the snow behind him. He whirled around but saw nothing, so he began to walk to his car when he heard the sound again. Again he looked, but there was nothing.

He opened his car door and this time there was no mistaking the sound of footsteps behind him.

_Fuck,_ he thought. _My backup piece is in the glovebox-_

"_And it can stay there, as well,"_ rang an unnaturally deep voice behind him.

Frank spun, and then in shock he looked up.

There was no mistaking the giant Pokemon in front of him. Mewtwo towered over him by several inches, his cloak blowing in the cold winter wind. His eyes were as cold as the air itself, seeming in fact o make things colder than they naturally were.

"_I do not wish for trouble, detective,"_ he continued. _"I merely felt I should compliment you on your restraint."_

"Huh?"

"_Towards Tristan O'Meara, that is. I know it must be hard for you to have to work with the lover of your ex-lover-"_

"And this is your business how, might I ask?"

"_I wish you luck in finding your father's killer, Mr. Caldwell," _was all the mutant would say before he turned and walked away.

Frank watched him go, then got in his car.

"Hey there," came a familiar voice from the backseat.

"AARGH!" Frank screamed, nearly hitting the windshield as he jumped. He spun around and glared at Karen, who was laughing. "What the hell?!"

"Oh, relax, Frank," she told him, playfully swatting at him but he dodged.

"RELAX?! You scared the living fucking hell out of me, woman!"

"Admit it, you liked it."

"I didn't."

"Come on, Frank-"

"That was not funny."

She pushed her lower lip out in a somewhat comic pout.

"That's not going to work."

She pushed her lip out further.

"Still not going to work." Frank started the car and turned on the headlights.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

Frank hadn't thought of that, and for a moment, he was at a loss for words. After hastened thought, he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"Well?" she persisted.

"Drinks," he told her. "There's a bar I go to some nights. After what you did, I need a few shots."

* * *

"Frank!" yelled Larry over the noise as the couple walked in. "Who's the lady friend you got there?"

"Can't say," the detective replied. "Security reasons."

"Ah, I see," responded the bartender, a glint in his eye. "THAT sort of thing."

Frank gave him a cold stare.

"OK, NOT that sort of thing, then."

"Much better."

Karen turned to Frank as she sat on the bar stool. "What is he talking about?"

Her impromptu date gave an obscure gesture.

"Oh my god. He thinks I'm a prostitute, doesn't he?"

"Not anymore, he doesn't."

"OK, OK," Larry grunted, "so I made a mistake. Not the first time. Scotch, Frank?"

"Yeah, might as well."

"And what can I do for the lady over here?" he asked Karen.

"I'm a woman of disturbing tastes. Straight tequila."

"Disturbing? Nah. Brave? Maybe. Straight tequila coming up."

He walked off, and about the same time he did, Angela Wikstrom entered. She spotted Frank and walked over to him. "Detective Caldwell, I should have guessed I'd find you here. Have you re-opened the case yet?"

"Just started last night after I left," he told her.

"Nothing new so far?"

"Well, the Pokebureau has offered their assistance, so I'm holding out hope, but no, nothing this early."

"OK, then. Well, keep me informed."

She walked towards the end of the bar, but Frank got off his stool. "Actually, before I forget, I have a quick question. Do you remember what Jeremy was wearing when you last saw him?"

She stopped and turned around. "Actually, yes I do, clear as day. He was wearing a blue onesie. That's something I don't think I'll ever forget. Why do you ask?"

"I had thought of something, but it might be that important, we'll have to see."

"Oh, OK. Well, enjoy your evening."

She went to the end of the bar, ordered her usual drink, downed it, paid, and left. Frank watched her go, then sat back down. Karen had already downed her shot of tequila and was waiting on another. "What was that all about?" she asked him.

"Just those cases I re-opened. That's the mother of one of the cases."

"Oh."

Frank signaled for Larry to come over to him. "Got a pen or something?"

"Why?" the bartender asked. "Taking notes on napkins again?"

"This one is kinda important."

Larry sighed. "Fine." He reached under the bar and grabbed a pen, setting it next to the untouched whiskey. "Just don't walk off with it, and don't contribute too much to global deforestation."

"Yeah, well I only need one napkin, thanks," he replied as he scrawled JEREMY WIKSTROM BLUE ONESIE on the napkin before putting it in his pocket. He then picked up his glass and drained it in two gulps. "Another shot, Larry."

* * *

A few minutes later, Frank realized he was going to be in deep shit if he tried to drive, but he wasn't sure if he cared or not. He and Karen were trying to control their drinking, but what they did consume left them laughing a bit too loud and too much. She spent a lot of time flicking her tongue along his jaw line while he rubbed her shoulders. Larry just looked at them, shaking his head. _Another day, _he thought, _another couple too happy._

Finally, a woman sitting a couple of seats from the two let out a sigh as she crushed her cigarette in the ashtray. She was wearing a black tank top and tight jean shorts that came all the way up her thighs. Only a long gray trench coat served as a concession to the cold outside, her dark hair spilling over it in a ponytail. The woman got up, set her money on the counter, and placed a hand on her hip, staring at the drunken couple in front of her. Frank turned and saw her, catching a glimpse of two pistols in shoulder holsters strapped to her sides. From the look on her face, however, he could tell that she wasn't interested in harming either him or Karen.

"I'm in the wrong fucking time period," was all she would say as she walked past them and out the door.

"Who was that?" the Dark-type Elite Four member asked.

"No clue," Frank replied. "Your place or mine?"

* * *

It had been a long time since he'd been in a hotel for any reason, so Frank had forgotten what it felt like to be in a bed other than his own. But as he sat on the one in Karen's room, coat and shirt on the floor next to his shoes and socks, he had to admit that his date had good taste.

"So was there any significance to what you wrote on that napkin earlier?" she asked him from the bathroom. She held her liquor well, but she was in there to put on something else, or at least that's what she told Frank.

"There is, but it's an open investigation."

"Can't say, huh?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

She walked out of the bathroom wearing a long, oriental-print kimono and stood in front of Frank.

"At least those drinks took your mind off the case for a while," she said in a low, seductive tone. "But I think I know what can make that last longer."

She opened her kimono and let it slide from her shoulders and down to the floor, leaving her naked and waiting.

She took a step towards him and he pulled her closer to him, lowering his head to nuzzle her tender slit. Using his tongue, he caressed her opening as she held him, drawing him closer to her as she began to moan. His hands massaged her soft ass, keeping her with him as his tongue flicked inside of her.

They separated momentarily, and she knelt down and pulled his black A-shirt off before opening up his pants and pulling them and his boxers away. Lowering her head, she enclosed his penis in her mouth and started moving along, causing Frank to emit a deep sigh. The slurping and sucking sounds, combined with her breathing, were the only sounds in the softly lit room until he leaned forward as far as he could and reached for her breasts, playing with her nipples and making her moan around him.

After a while, she let him go and he pulled her onto the bed, rolling her on her back and spreading her legs apart. Holding his cock in one hand, he began to tease the soft folds with his tip, setting off more moans from her. "Frank," Karen got out, "don't torment me like this, just put it in me…."

Frank chuckled and shook his head. "No, I don't think so," he told her. "You should have thought of that before you scared me earlier."

His eye caught the open bag near the bed and he shuffled through it, finding a long purple vibrator. He held it up to show her, a wide grin on his face. "I knew you'd have one of these."

He turned it on and began to rub it along her vulva, causing her to cry out and arch her back with every motion. Then he positioned it in the slit and pushed it in, and the reaction as he thrust around with it was what he wanted: her body twisting around on the bed, her only sounds the whimpers of an orgasm unrealized.

"Frank…" she begged, "please…."

Deciding he'd done enough to her, he pulled the vibrator out and turned it off, setting it on top of her bag before he finally pushed himself into her, making her cum before he was even halfway in. He started thrusting, and it was not long before she was groaning again, every sound indicating a renewed rush towards her peak. Before she could, he turned her onto all fours and entered her again, making her grab the sheets in what seemed like a futile attempt to keep herself from going over the edge.

"Oh, Frank, please fuck me harder!" she screamed, and he responded in kind, causing her to fall on her face on the pillows. The angle of her body made the sex even more pleasurable for both of them and brought their respective orgasms even closer to happening.

Moments later but what seemed like forever to him, her slick vagina clenched around him as she came again, her moans subsiding as he pulled her up and lay on his own back. She began to suck at him again, rubbing his cock between her breasts as she did so, until she sensed him tensing up. Leaving her mouth open in an erotic smile, she soon felt him spurt on her face and her breasts, getting some of it in her mouth as he coated her with his cum.

She leaned back and licked his fluids from her skin as he propped himself on his elbows.

"I think we topped last night," he panted.

"I KNOW we did, Frank," she said as she fell on him, and the two shared many passionate kisses as the night drifted on, the promise of frenzied sexuality lingering in the air.

_You lucky bastard, _said a voice in his head.

_Not now, damn it!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.**

**Last chapter was not the last time you'll see Mewtwo have a cameo in the series, but there will be no more gratuitous Revy (from **_**Black Lagoon**_**) appearances in any of my work.**

**Unless you ask, of course.**

**Language and content warning:**

Frank found himself drifting awake.

The lights in his eyes half-blinded him as he began to remember where he was.

He began to sit up, and as his eyes adjusted to the brightness around him, he looked towards the window of the hotel room.

_Dark._

He looked at the clock on the nightstand nearby.

_Fuck, it's only five o'clock._

The woman next to him, the sheets on her side pulled down below her breasts, began to stir, her blue-gray hair spread around her. _So much like an angel, _the detective thought.

_Yeah,_ came that voice in his head, _but she moves like a devil in bed, am I right?_

_I'm not even about to dignify that with a response._

_You just did._

_Shut up._

_I don't have to. And I don't want to._

Frank was about to respond to the voice when his cellphone rang. He got out of bed, trying to be careful to not wake Karen, and walked naked to the pile of clothes at the end of the bed. It took him a while to find his phone in his pants but he eventually did and answered. "Caldwell."

"Sweetie, where did you go?"

_Shit, I forgot to tell Mom I wasn't going to be home! _"I can't say right now, it's kinda secret."

"Oh, you had me worried!"

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry. Next time, I'll remember to call. This is a bad time right now, OK?"

"Oh, OK. Well, let me know when you're on your way home, all right, sweetie?"

"Yeah, I will. Bye, Mom."

He quickly hung up and turned to see a bemused Karen propping herself up on her elbows. "It's not every day I wake up to see my fuck buddy talking with their mom on the phone," she said, sleepily.

Frank sighed. "I didn't ask for her to move in my house, either."

She drew the sheets away from his side of the bed, revealing the rest of her naked torso in the process. "We still have time. Come back to bed for another round."

"I'd love to, but I also have things to do today, and I know that if I do, I'll never get out of here and get them done." He stared at empty half of the bed, then glanced at her inviting body. "Oh, what the hell. I probably won't get to do much today anyway."

He walked to the bed and got on. As soon as he did so, Karen reached out and began to trace something on his skin. "What's that tattoo you have on your arm for?" she asked.

Not expecting the question, Frank started looking at his arms wildly, then realized what she meant. His eyes turned towards a series of seven Grecian pillars on his right bicep, a set of scales supported by them.

"Oh, I had gotten that done after all the shit that went on this past summer," he explained. "One pillar for each victim, and that's supposed to be the scales of justice."

"Kind of like a tribute, then."

"Yeah. Now are we going to interpret, or are we going to get nasty?"

"How do you define nasty?"

"Look down."

She did, and then she giggled. "I love that definition," she told him, no small hint of seduction in her voice as she pulled him towards her.

* * *

Tristan had not been able to sleep that night.

He paced around in the bathroom, the door closed, the lights on although he really had not wanted that.

Victoria's revelation of a past relationship between her and Frank Caldwell was not affecting him well. It seemed like every time he closed his eyes, he could see her in the human's arms, her face radiant with erotic passion. The thought of it kept the Gallade awake.

_This is ridiculous, _he thought. _She already said that it was a long time ago._

_Maybe, _he replied to himself, _but what's to say either of them have moved on?_

_Don't be an idiot. She has you. Plus, that guy is considered a major hero, so he could probably bed any woman he damn well wants._

_But my girlfriend had sex with "that guy"!_

_A lot of guys probably lost lovers to him, are you kidding me?_

Tristan looked at himself in the mirror, and all he saw was a glare.

_I'm going to be irrational and do something stupid today, aren't I?_

The door suddenly opened, and Victoria, standing in her pajamas, gave him a quizzical look. _"Are you going to live in there or are you going to let me get my shower?"_

Tristan wordlessly passed her on the way out.

"_Hey, you know, I would really appreciate the company this morning," _she called out as she turned the water on.

Tristan said nothing, only changing into a suit and walking out.

Victoria watched him go. _What's his problem?_

* * *

The Hypno leafed through some more of his notes. _"Now, detective, you said you're having a hard time coping with your mother's return. Has this affected you in any other ways?"_

"Not really, no," replied Frank, hoping that all he would need to do was stare at the ceiling like an idiot.

"_Not even romantically?"_

"I'm afraid to ask how this is your business."

"_Simple. If she's bringing in other lovers again, as you said she has done in the past, it might embarrass you to be bringing in prospective sexual companions under the same roof."_

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"_Have you even had any sexual encounters in the past few days?"_

"Pardon my fluent French, but how the fuck is this any of your fucking business?!"

"_Not with an ex, not with a co-worker-"_

"Oh, this is bullshit-"

"_Have you ever had sex with any of your co-workers?"_

"Most of the people in the precinct are men!" By now, Frank was on his feet with rage.

"_What about that Pokebureau agent you worked with last year? Or do you not want to admit that you are attracted to Pokemon?"_

Frank responded by turning and flipping the couch over with a scream. The Hypno calmly wiped his glasses._ "I think I might just end this session now and tell the Commissioner that things went smoothly. You may want to work out some of your aggression right away. Perhaps next time, I'll just talk about Papua New Guinea for a while."_

Frank said nothing as he stormed out of the office, but before he shut the door, he stuck his right hand back in and gave the Hypno the finger.

* * *

Frank hit the punching bag one last time with such force that he thought he would knock it all the way to the other end of the workout center. After the unpleasant session with the Hypno, he felt he needed to blow of some serious steam before calling Angela Wikstrom again. There was the matter of the "skin-headed man" that Harvey Wikstrom had mentioned, and Frank knew that only Angela could confirm the possible significance.

Having let out some, but not much, of his anger on the punching bag, he approached the weight bench.

"Think I might go for two-forty just to play it safe," he muttered to himself.

In spite of his short (about five-nine, five-ten) stature, he was well built as far as his musculature was concerned. This came from much strength training, to the point where he was deadlifting close to three hundred pounds at a time. He normally didn't like showing the results off, but considering that black t-shirts and A-shirts were part of his wardrobe anyway, it was hard to not do so.

He set the weights, then got on the bench and lowered the weight bar from the holders. He took as deep a breath as he could, then pushed the weights upward. "One," he began to count with each repetition. "Two. Three-"

He suddenly felt the weights increase in force downward, and he found himself unable to push back up. He opened his eyes and was shocked to see Tristan standing next to him, one foot on the bar. "The hell-"

"_Look, I really don't want to cause trouble, detective, but I think I need to get something off my chest."_

"How about you take your foot off of mine?" Frank barely got out.

"_I know it was a long time ago and that you're probably past it by now, but I just can't seem to think of what Victoria saw in you. Maybe she was attracted to you actually caring more than most people would about someone in her position, or maybe it was something else."_

"Goddamnit, Tristan, you're going to break my fuckin' sternum!"

"_Like I said, the two of you are probably both past it, but let's not have any trouble between us if you're not, OK?"_ He finally stepped off Frank's chest. _"I'll see you at the precinct."_

As Frank watched the Gallade go, he was having a hard time breathing, partially because of the pressure formerly on him and partially from rage. _I think I need to have a talk with Victoria, _he decided. _Because I don't know how else he'd have found out._


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.**

**Language and violence warning:**

Tristan slumped over the steering wheel as soon as he brought the car to a stop at the precinct. _What the fuck was I thinking?!_ he thought to himself. _I'm supposed to be working together with the Saffron police, not trying to cave their chests in!_

"_Victoria's going to be so pissed when she finds out," _he groaned aloud.

* * *

Still hurting and having a hard time catching his breath, Frank fished his cellphone out of his pocket before driving out of the parking lot at the workout center. He dialed Angela Wikstrom's number and waited. After a few rings, she answered. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Wikstrom, this is Detective Caldwell. I forgot to ask you a question yesterday and I was wondering if you can maybe remember something for me."

"OK, what is it?"

"Do you remember ever having trouble with someone with a shaved head around the time Jeremy disappeared?"

"Oh god."

"What?"

"Esteban is his name. Esteban Soriano. He was always coming by and causing us problems. I still don't know why."

"Right. I'll call you back if anything comes up."

* * *

Tristan was sitting at Frank's desk, trying not to make eye contact as the human detective walked over to Alex. Victoria and Stuart were looking over the Gengar's shoulder as he made a futile effort to go through digital copies of various police reports on his computer. "Any luck?"

"_Not even close,"_ said Alex, sadly. _"You?"_

"Think I can get you to check out a suspect for me?"

"_Got a name?"_

"Esteban Soriano."

"_Sure, give me a minute."_

"Fine. Victoria, can I talk to you for a second?" He jerked his thumb around the corner.

"_Why?" _she asked.

"Just c'mon, all right?"

Victoria sighed. _"Fine."_

She followed him around the corner, and no sooner was Frank certain that they were out of Tristan's earshot than he spun on his heels to face her. "What the hell did you tell your boyfriend about us for?!"

Victoria recoiled. _"What are you talking about?"_

"Son of a bitch showed up while I was working out and damn near crushed my fucking chest in!"

"_B-but what did I do?!"_

"He was going on and on about the two of us, and there's only one way he could've known about and that's if YOU told him, because I sure as hell have never told anybody!"

Victoria was shaking with fear. _"I didn't even want to come back here to begin with! I knew it'd come out somehow!"_

"Oh, great! Thanks a lot, Victoria! You just got me on his little shit list!"

"_I didn't mean to, Frank! Honest, I didn't!"_

"_Uh, is everything all right?"_

Frank shot a fierce glare at Alex, who had walked in on the argument. "What?!"

"_I did a check on Soriano. Stuart and Agent O'Meara have already seen the results. You two need to check as well."_

Frank sighed, glared at Victoria, who had a look of shame on her face, then followed the Gengar towards the computers, the Gardevoir following close behind.

"_Here's a sheet for ya: drug possession, drug distribution, armed robbery, assault and battery, you name it, it's up there. How the hell he didn't do more time than he has is beyond me."_

"He have any aliases?" Hopfmar asked, having walked in as Frank and Victoria had gotten to the computer.

"_Yeah, a whole shitload of them, one of which he's currently working under. Got his last known address and his current work address."_

"Bring him in," Hopfmar ordered.

"I'm taking Stuart with me," Frank immediately announced, walking for the door.

Stuart watched him walk away, then turned to the others and shrugged in confusion.

* * *

The home improvement chain store was busy with customers looking for things for their do-it-yourself projects as Frank, Stuart, Tristan, and Victoria walked in, followed by several other officers. Tristan and Victoria had said nothing to each other on the drive there, although Tristan had a feeling, judging solely from her behavior, that her ex-lover had blown a fuse in front of her, and justifiably so. Stuart, meanwhile, was unable to get Frank to explain his unusual behavior as they came to a stop in the parking lot.

As they scoured the store, Tristan spotted a man in the store's uniform putting boxes of screws from a cart onto shelves. His shirt collar was not enough to conceal several tattoos that peeked out from underneath, and there was nary a trace of stubble on top of his head. He had a thin, dark goatee that stood out against his skin, dark and indicative of a Latino heritage. With somewhat well-muscled arms, he didn't look like he was middle-aged.

Tristan nudged Frank. _"I think that's him."_

"Esteban Soriano?" Frank called.

Soriano's head spun around, and the moment he spotted the detectives, he shoved the cart of screws towards them.

Frank pushed it aside and Tristan and Stuart shoved it over on its side as they gave chase. Soriano rounded a corner but then turned and ran back down the aisle he had been going after Victoria sped towards him, Glock drawn. He shoved down a display of gloves, forcing Frank to jump over them. The detective landed on his feet and kept running.

Soriano then shoved a set of plastic steps in his path, but Frank ran up them and leapt through the air.

And that was when he saw the forklift suddenly coming down the aisle in front of him.

_This is going to hurt,_ he thought, ruefully.

The driver hit the brakes, but it was too late. Frank's right shoulder hit the lift on the machine and he fell to the ground screaming and thrashing as a searing pain tore through him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.**

**OK, admittedly, I'm gonna kinda pull something stupid out of my ass in this chapter. Then again, strange things happen in the Pokemon universe anyway that defy natural laws, so this shouldn't be a surprise, but it's still pretty awful. I guess I'll let you, the readers, be the judge. My only excuse is that it's kinda necessary for story purposes.**

**Also, apologies for the incredibly shitty (compared to previous work) quality and lateness. I haven't had much time to write because of my job and the early hours that I have to go to bed.**

**Language warning:**

Commissioner Steele walked briskly into the waiting room, where Hopfmar was talking with a doctor and the others were sitting down, Victoria refusing to make eye contact with anyone. "How bad is it?"

"He cracked his collarbone pretty bad, Commissioner," the doctor informed her. "He insisted when he got here that he only wanted us to do just enough so it heals up while he's working."

"You did a thorough job, right?"

"Well, we had no choice. He didn't get it treated properly, he'd be having trouble later. The way we did it, he won't be out for a while."

"Can we see him?" she asked.

"Yes, he's out of surgery already. Follow me."

The group followed the doctor to Frank's room, where Frank, in a neck brace with a sling holding up his right arm, was yelling as loud as he could while still coming out of the anesthesia. "GODDAMNIT, I'M NOT SPENDING A FULL FUCKING WEEK IN HERE! I'M GETTING OUT IN TWO DAYS OR I FUCKING BLAST MY WAY OUT!"

Stuart quickly rushed to the side of the bed. "Frank, calm down, everything's going to be fine-"

"THE HELL IT IS!" Frank shouted. "I'M IN FUCKING PAIN RIGHT NOW, I GOT A FUCKING NEEDLE SHOVED HALFWAY THE FUCK UP MY ARM, AND I CAN'T BE OUT WORKING ON MY CASE!"

"Frank, we can handle it, it's going to be OK-"

"SOMEONE GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

It was into this unpleasant swirl of melodrama that Frank's mother staggered in, stone drunk. "I got here as soon as I could," she slurred out. "How bad is he?"

"IT'S FUCKING FRACTURED!" Frank yelled, not bothering to lower his voice or ease up on the profanities.

"It's not fractured, it's just cracked," Hopfmar corrected. He turned to Frank's mother. "Ellen? What are you doing here?"

"What, I can't check on my son to make sure he's OK?" she retorted, taking a step forward, but in her inebriation, she misjudged Victoria's distance and walked right into her, causing them both to fall to the ground.

Frank sighed. "I don't need this-"

Just then, Karen ran into the room and came to a sudden halt behind the pile consisting of Victoria and Ellen. "Oh my god, Frank are you all right?"

"I've been asked that twice before, and the third time does not change the fact that I am in a lot of pain."

Hopfmar was staring at Karen. "What are YOU doing here?"

"I'm here on business-" she began.

"Not at the hospital, you're not-"

"Could we forget about that and talk about something else?" Frank interrupted. "Like Esteban Soriano? Has anyone interrogated him yet?"

"Stuart and I were just about to go and do that right now," Hopfmar said, nodding towards Stuart. "We'll let you know what happens."

"Great," was the reply as they left.

* * *

Tristan was leaning with his head on a vending machine, trying to look as inconspicuous as a shiny Gallade in a suit could under the circumstances, when Victoria stormed over to him and shoved him off it. _"What the hell is wrong with you?!"_ she snapped.

"_Look, I know why you're upset with me and I completely deserve it-" _he sighed.

"_No, you listen! That man is someone I consider my friend, and I'm not going to have my friends tearing me a new asshole because you ACT like one!"_

"_Look, I'm sorry-"_

"_You damn well better be!"_ She stormed back towards the waiting room. _"Your stuff will be in the hallway at the hotel. You can sleep by yourself tonight, you pathetic bastard."_

Tristan, feeling completely humiliated, turned and slid down the vending machine, his face in his hands.

* * *

Frank was wishing that the doctors were giving him heavier doses of morphine. Commissioner Steele stood silent and unamused in the middle of the room as Frank's mother was droning in a loud, drunken voice about various things to a slightly bemused and yet slightly embarrassed Karen. All of that added to the pain he was in made for a very unpleasant-

Into the craziness walked a smiling male nurse, pushing a cart with sponges and hot water. "Hi, I'm just in here to get somebody cleaned up!" He turned his smile towards Frank, who was unable to react.

"You want us to leave?" Steele asked.

"Well, you don't HAVE to, but he might appreciate it."

Steele said no more as she led Karen and Frank's mother from the room.

The nurse turned and closed the door, then turned again towards Frank, who would have dropped his jaw if his neck wasn't in the brace. "Mewtwo?! What are you doing here?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

The mutant Pokemon walked towards him, his head having returned to his true form but the rest of his body remaining human. _"Calm down, Detective. I merely came to see how you were doing. Did they show you the x-rays yet?"_

"H-how did you do that?"

"_Do what?"_

"Y-you came in here and-"

"_Long story. Did you see the x-rays?"_

"No, why?"

"_Well, I got to sneak in a look, and it appears that while you did indeed suffer a crack along your clavicle, it is not as bad as they may have made it sound. Which is why I brought you something to hasten your recovery."_

"Look, I already told the doctors that I'm walking out in a couple of days whether they like it or not-"

He stopped as he saw Mewtwo pull a pill bottle out of his pocket. "Do I really want to know what that is?"

"_These are pills made from an herbal blend that I know of. I often use a stronger blend of these to help injured Pokemon that I come across in the wild. For you, I reduced the potency since I have no idea how well your body would respond to a full dose."_

"That's not gonna show up on a drug test, is it?"

"_I highly doubt it, Detective."_

"Oh, good."

The massive Psychic-type walked over to the bed and set a pill next to a paper cup of water. _"Take it quickly. Trust me, you will want to take it quickly."_

Frank picked up the pill and stared at it. It was just a little white pill, nothing assuming about it. He picked it up with the water and tossed it in his mouth. And almost immediately he began gagging.

"_I told you to make it quick."_

The injured detective barely opened his mouth to sip the water and roughly swallow everything. "Good lord, man, could you have made it even slightly less bitter or something?!"

"_The taste does not last. Besides, you'll be thankful for it later." _He set the bottle down within Frank's reach but out of sight of anyone else. _"One every half a day. So take another in the morning."_

He started to leave, but Frank spoke. "What about my, uh, you know…?"

"_I think I might just do some dabbing and call it good so no one gets suspicious,"_ replied Mewtwo, turning back towards him.

"Oh yay, what I've always dreamed of," groaned Frank sarcastically as the Psychic-type went to work on his arm. "You giving me a sponge bath."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or any related trademarks.**

**Language warning:**

Esteban Soriano sat unamused in the interrogation room as Stuart and Hopfmar walked in. Stuart tossed Soriano's folder on the table and sat down. "I assume you've been notified of your rights?" he asked.

"Man, I don't know why I'm in here," replied the felon.

"Start with evading arrest."

"You _pendejos _was chasin' me, what was I supposed to do?"

"You've done a great job hiding from us, Esteban. Can't say I blame you, looking at your record."

"That record's bullshit, you got nothin'."

"Oh, but we have plenty: trafficking, armed robbery, assault. Maybe we could add kidnapping and murder to the list as well."

Esteban started to rise out of his chair. "The fuck-"

"Sit down!"

Esteban promptly did so, but then he tried to complete his sentence. "The fuck you talkin' about, man?! I never killed or kidnapped nobody!"

"Really? Not even Angela Wikstrom's baby?"

"Who?"

Stuart pulled Angela's photo out of a different folder and tossed it on the table. "Her. The one who you harassed at her home non-stop in '85."

Esteban shoved the photo back. "Don't know what you're talkin' about."

Stuart snorted derisively and pushed it back. "Come on, Esteban, she remembers you tormenting her and her husband all the time. What's the matter, have a personal beef with them, decided to take it out on their kid?"

"You full of shit."

"No, YOU are. Bunch of the neighbors remember you hanging around and constantly going at it with her husband."

Esteban snorted himself and shook his head. "Not like that, _esse._ You don't know shit."

"Oh, please-"

"Bitch owed me money."

Stuart raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You got shit for records, _esse._ There's one thing they never got me for: I used to be a pimp."

"Don't try to bullshit me and tell me that Angela was one of your women. I'm not stupid."

"Betcha the boys in the back call you Fuckface, you so stupid. There was a wholesale bust back in '84. Some of my girls got picked up. I got away. I didn't help any of 'em out, either. No use riskin' my neck for them hos."

"And you're saying Angela Wikstrom was one of them?" asked Hopfmar, who walked from the door to the table as he spoke.

"She was one of those got busted. Problem was, she was one of my best. And she kept tryin' to keep more than her share of the profits. That's why I went after her. But she never had no kid when that was happenin'."

Stuart let loose a harsh chuckle. "You think we're stupid, don't you? You took their kid, killed a cop-"

"WHOA, WHOA, WHOA!" yelled Esteban, coming out of his chair again. "They never had no fuckin' kid, and I didn't kill no fuckin' cops! Look, you don't believe me, you got her records, right? You got mine, so you should got hers, right?"

* * *

"Shit," sighed Frank as he finished looking over Angela's file. Stuart was leaning on the wall of the hospital room, head bowed against it in embarrassment. "Hate to say it, but he's right. And that just threw a wrench into the entire investigation."

"I'm afraid to ask," groaned Commissioner Steele.

"Well, for one thing, it adds several more suspects to the list: clients, some of the other girls, maybe even her own late husband."

"What do you mean?" asked Hopfmar.

"What if Jeremy wasn't, in fact, Dave's son?"

"_I find it hard to believe that he'd kill a child, though,"_ Victoria interjected. _"At least from what you described of him."_

"If the paternity was in question, even in those days when DNA testing was a novel or unheard of concept in this region, it could have pushed him over."

"And maybe she would have also wanted to hide the truth," Stuart added.

Frank sighed again. "There's only one way to be sure. And it may clear up something else."

"What's that?" Steele queried.

"I want Angela Wikstrom to take a DNA test. And if there is ANYTHING that we can use from the Baby Doe case for another DNA sample-"

"You don't think-"

"I do think, and I have thought for a while. Jeremy Wikstrom and Baby Doe are one and the same. I just need to prove it. Stuart, can you give me a hand in dialing her number?"

* * *

Angela walked into the room and was immediately stunned to see Frank in the hospital bed and in bad shape. "Oh my god, are you all right, Detective?"

"Meh, just an occupational hazard thing. Stuart, would you close the door, please?"

"So, what did you call me in here for?" she asked as Stuart complied with Frank's orders.

"There have been some developments, and I feel you need to be kept up on them. Which is why I need to ask you a few questions."

"Certainly, Detective, I understand."

"Good." He noticed the commissioner giving him a raised eyebrow and waved it off. "How do you know Esteban Soriano?"

"I told you already, he's the man who was giving my husband and I grief around the time Jeffrey disappeared."

"I know that, but there's some things you haven't been telling us, Mrs. Wikstrom. So I'll ask again: how do you know Esteban Soriano?"

Angela started looking around uncomfortably at the other officials around her. "What are you talking about?"

Frank held up a folder containing her records. "He claims to know you on a business level."

"What the hell are you talking about, Detective?"

"Since there's no gentle way of putting it, he says he was your pimp at one time."

She spun towards Hopfmar. "Is this serious?!"

"I'm afraid so, ma'am," he replied.

"Says you owed him money, too," Frank continued.

"That's bullshit, I never knew the man before he-"

"That's not what your police record shows."

"Give me a break-"

"Six months time for prostitution. He sold you out, Angela, and he said so himself."

"You're going to believe the word of a THUG over me?!"

"I'm going to believe the record, ma'am. I don't want to, trust me, I don't, but it's my job. You're not being open with us and it's hurting the case."

Furious, she spun towards Commissioner Steele. "Well? Can't you make him stop?!"

The stern blonde sighed. "I don't like it either, but he's doing his job, Mrs. Wikstrom, and he's well within his bounds."

"This is ridiculous! Why would that freak want my baby anyway?"

"Maybe it wasn't just him," came the reply from the bed.

"What?!"

"I rather wish this revelation never came up, because that adds more possible suspects. Maybe Dave thought you were carrying on a relationship with a former customer behind his back."

"Oh my god-"

"Maybe he thought that Jeffery wasn't his biological son."

"Go to hell!"

"Maybe, to get back at you, he even killed your own son."

"GO TO HELL!"

"There's a reason I asked a question about what he was wearing when you last saw him. One of the cases my father was working on involved a dead baby that unfortunately matches the description you gave in the missing persons report."

"MY SON IS NOT DEAD!" she screamed, almost frothing with rage. Victoria braced herself, ready to use a Hypnosis attack if necessary.

"I know that's how you feel, and I don't blame you for it. But what if I'm right?"

"No. You're WRONG! You're WRONG!"

"Then prove me wrong."

"Excuse me?!"

"The only way we'll know for certain is if you agree to take a DNA test."

She let out a harsh, scoffing laugh. "Hell no! I don't need a fucking test to know that my son is still alive!"

"How can you be so sure? And don't say 'mother's intuition,' that only goes so far."

"I just KNOW, OK?!"

Frank sighed. This was not what he physically needed, not now. "Look, if you agree to take the test and it comes back that it's not a match for the dead baby, we will do everything we can to try and find him. I'll sacrifice my whole goddamned career if I have to. If it comes back a match, then we'll do everything we can to make sure that the killer is brought to justice. But you have to agree to take the test. It's the only way we'll know for certain." He took a deep breath, the effects of the painkillers not exactly enough to take out the pain. "Please."

Angela stood there, staring at the wall, shaking her head, continuing to make scoffing noises. Finally, she let out a sigh of her own. "Fine, I'll do it. If only to prove to you that my son is not dead."

"Very well." He turned to Stuart. "Do we have a test kit on hand?"

"Not at the moment, but I can get one."

"Good, make it fast."

"How long will this take?" Steele asked.

"_If I may, the main Pokebureau office in Goldenrod can get a test completed in as little as twenty-four hours, maybe quicker,"_ Tristan offered.

"All right, so who's taking it to them?"

"Maybe you should go, Commissioner," Frank suggested.

"By myself?"

"_I volunteer to go with," _Tristan interjected.

"Good," Frank replied.

Steele opened her mouth to speak, but found herself unable to find the words. Victoria, meanwhile, looked at her colleague and love interest suspiciously.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.**

**Language and content warning:**

He felt like he was in a fog.

As he walked through an environment unfamiliar to him, he thought he could hear someone calling his name. A woman's voice. One he knew.

"Frank…."

_Karen? _he thought.

He saw the shapely silhouette of a woman coming through the fog towards him. As she came closer, he noticed that she was as naked as he apparently was. He reached for her in the mist, cupping her breasts in his hands and rubbing her nipples with his thumbs.

"Oh, Karen," he groaned sleepily, "you have no idea how-"

"Frank? Are you all right?"

He opened his eyes and saw that he was caressing his mother. Startled, he dropped his hand from her breast. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry-" he blurted.

She chuckled, the bemused look on her face trying to alleviate his embarrassment. "They must have you on some pretty strong shit," she told him.

Frank sunk down as far as he could in the hospital bed. "What time is it?"

"Time for me to be getting home. You were asleep for a couple of hours. I didn't want to leave until they ended visiting hours. Plus I'm still drunk."

"Is Karen out there still?"

"I think so."

"Have her take you home." He closed his eyes. "I need to go to sleep so I can grope some air instead."

* * *

Tristan and Commissioner Steele barely spoke to each other as they rode the train to Goldenrod. The near-silence continued as they delivered the DNA sample to the testing lab (Frank had been able to secure sufficient material from the evidence in the Baby Doe case for a DNA sample without needing to exhume the remains). And it persisted up until the point where the Pokebureau agent dropped her off at a hotel.

"Eight-thirty in the morning," she informed him. "That's when I expect you here to pick me up."

"_I can't guarantee the tests will be done by then, though."_

"I don't care. Pick me up at eight-thirty."

She shut the car door and walked off without another word or even so much as a wave. Tristan sighed and drove home.

It seemed weird to walk inside the house with no Victoria around. He collapsed on the couch and turned on the TV.

_Let's see, _he mused as he began to channel-surf. _Golf replays…. No. News…. No. Cooking shows…. No. Ooh! Softcore porn!_

…_.Nah._

He turned off the TV and tossed the remote aside. Swinging his legs up, he decided to go to sleep. He had no desire to sleep in the bed alone.

* * *

Try though he might, Frank could not get to sleep.

A mixture of pain, which was still present despite the morphine being dripped into his veins, and sheer boredom was keeping him awake, and it was driving him crazy. Instinctively, he glanced around, trying to see the clock.

_11:30. Unbelievable._

Just as instinctively, he reached for the remote and turned on the TV in the room, turning the volume down in the process so as not to disturb other patients.

"All right!" he mumbled to himself. "_Neon Genesis Evangelion_! I wonder which episode this one is?"

He suddenly heard a soft knock on the door. Startled, he was about to hit the mute button when he heard the voice. _"It's me, Frank. May I come in?"_

"It's a little late, isn't it?"

"_I already talked with the nurses. I can hang around a few minutes."_

He sighed. "Fine."

Victoria quietly opened the door and entered, closing it behind her just as quietly. _"What are you watching?"_

"Oh, I'm just watching _Neon Genesis Evagelion_. I happen to like it. Most of the episodes, anyway. The last two I just replace with _End Of Evangelion_. It's much better that way, sort of."

"_I know. Which episode- oh god, is this the one where they're supposed to be running tests naked but an angel infects the system so Ritsuko has to write a whole bunch of programming or something to make the angel self-destruct?"_

"Looks like it."

"_Oh my god, that's one of my favorite episodes! Asuka's freakout is SOOOOOOOOOOO hilarious!"_

"You're not here to see Asuka naked, are you?"

The question paused the Gardevoir. She took a deep breath. _"It's Tristan."_

"Yeah, what about him?"

"_You don't think he volunteered to go with the commissioner because-"_

"Revenge sex? Considering her personality, if he tried, she'd probably punch his lights out. Ice Punch, no less."

"_But-"_

"Besides, if he didn't trust you, he'd have insisted that you take the sample over. Relax, OK?"

Victoria would only give a non-committal sigh.

"If that's all you want to talk about, unless you really ARE here to see Shinji, Rei, and Asuka naked, I would like to eventually get some sleep."

She nodded. _"Right. See you in the morning."_

She left quietly, and Frank laid back as much on the bed as his neck brace would allow, watching his show in silence, occasionally chuckling at points. When it was over, he shut the TV off and closed his eyes, hoping that good dreams would ease the pain.

* * *

Angela Wikstrom was called into the hospital room early the next day. Commissioner Steele had called Frank that morning to tell him that the lab at the Pokebureau had completed the test overnight and that she and Tristan were on their way.

The entire time they waited, Angela was pacing nervously while Victoria, Frank, and Hopfmar felt like they were on pins and needles.

Finally, the door opened and the commissioner and the shiny Gallade walked in. Tristan handed the bed-ridden detective the envelope and then stood next to Victoria, his face an emotionless mask except for his eyes, and Victoria saw and understood.

Frank opened the envelope, pulled out the papers containing the test results, and briefly read them. Exhaling heavily, he leaned forward and handed Victoria the contents. Silently, she passed them to Angela.

Angela looked at them, and Frank could see her face change to a look of horrified shock. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

"NO!" she screamed, collapsing to the floor and sobbing. Hopfmar walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. Tristan turned away in embarrassment.

Frank let out another sigh. "Commissioner, with your permission, I would like to merge the Jeremy Wikstrom and Baby Doe cases and progress with the investigation of the death of Jeremy Wikstrom as a homicide."

"You didn't have to ask," Steele replied, looking at the weeping woman on the floor in front of her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's note: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.**

**Consider this your belated Christmas gift, haha.**

**Language and content warning:**

Hopfmar, Tristan, and Victoria parked outside the Wikstrom residence. The lone human took a deep breath and turned to the Pokebureau agents. "Well, let's get started."

The three left the car and started to walk up to the house, where a still-distressed Angela Wikstrom was waiting. "Where do you want to start?" she asked.

"_Do you have a spare key?"_ Tristan asked. _"You know, like under a rock or something?"_

There was no reply.

"_She doesn't do telepathy, apparently," _Victoria noted. _"Captain, ask if she has a spare key hidden around here."_

"Why?" he asked, turning towards her.

Angela misunderstood what was happening. "Aren't you here to-"

"I was talking to Agent Stillwater," Hopfmar quickly explained.

"_If Soriano or anyone else was here often enough, they may have also hung back a ways, maybe trying to monitor their daily routine. It's worth a shot."_

"She's wondering if you have a spare key," Hopfmar directly asked Angela. "Particularly under a rock or something."

"Yeah, I keep one under the carpet. Or did. After Jeremy was taken, we quit putting one there."

"Did you catch that Frank?" Hopfmar asked into a microphone on his jacket.

"Yeah," the reply came in his ear.

Frank, along with Alex and some of the other tech crew, had rigged the TV in his hospital room to receive video feeds from a camera on Hopfmar's coat. Normally the camera would be used for undercover work. Here, its use was so Frank could follow the search, although what exactly they could search for in the dead of winter he wasn't sure.

Angela had entered the house briefly, then returned. "This is the key we used to use-"

Tristan motioned for it.

"You want to hold this?" she asked him, and he nodded. "OK, I guess."

Tristan took the key from her, and at once he was engulfed in a vision.

It was dark. The cold air was not yet that of winter but of fall, and the ground was free of snow. Almost in a trance, he replaced the rug from in front of the door before putting the key in the lock and turning it. Having unlocked the door, he opened it and quietly walked in.

"Wh-what's he doing?" Angela asked, nervous.

Victoria, realizing what was going on, ran around the house, looking in all the windows, until she saw a room with a crib. She peered in and suddenly her world was as dark as Tristan's had become.

Hopfmar followed Tristan in as the Gallade continued walking through the house with all the stealth of a seasoned jewel thief. Almost subconsciously, he began to physically mutter to himself, "Galla la la lalala…." as he soon found himself in the room with the crib. In his trance, he did not see Victoria looking in the window, as hypnotized as he was.

Looking into the crib, he saw a tiny figure sleeping in the shadows.

_Jeremy, _he realized.

He reached into the crib and lifted the baby out. Jeremy began crying, but he muffled the sounds by putting the blankets over the baby's mouth. Looking around to make sure no one else was around, he silently exited the house.

Victoria watched the shadowy figure remove the infant from his resting place and flee, thinking to herself, _Something seems odd about the way he carries that baby. But something seems odd about how he was able to move through the house like he KNEW it…._

She snapped back to reality when a large batch of snow slid off the roof and fell on her, coating her in a powdery white.

"_Well, that was unnecessary,"_ she muttered.

She ran around to see Tristan still walking, his eyes glazed over. Walking in front of him, she put her hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Voir?" she asked, not realizing she had slipped into her regular speech patterns.

"Galla?" Tristan asked back.

"What are they doing?" Angela asked Hopfmar.

"I think he was in a trance," he offered. "I don't know if he's recovered enough from it to remember to speak telepathically to her or me."

"Yeah," came Frank's voice, "well snap them out of it so I know what the hell's going on, OK?"

Hopfmar walked over to the two as Tristan kept talking, "La la, galla ga la-"

"Tristan?"

"Galla la galla ga, la la, ga-"

"TRISTAN!"

The shiny Gallade jumped slightly and turned, red-faced. _"Sorry."_

"What was going on in there?"

"_Whoever took Jeremy knew this place well enough to risk slipping in here at night. I don't know if Soriano has or had that kind of knowledge, but someone else could have."_

Hopfmar repeated it to Frank.

"That's what I thought," the detective replied.

Just then a car pulled up on the side of the road, and Harvey Wikstrom got out. "Angela, I-" he began, but stopped when he saw Hopfmar and the two Pokebureau agents. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"Not really," Angela replied. "The police are just here to investigate."

Hopfmar quickly introduced himself and the two agents.

"I remember Agent O'Meara from the time he had stopped by at my house with that other detective," Harvey noted. "So what's going on?"

Angela sighed. "Jeremy is dead."

"What?!"

"Yes. They did some DNA tests and they found he matched a dead baby case from around the time he was taken from us."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Are they trying to find who did it?"

"We're working on that right now," Hopfmar told him.

"Oh." He was quiet for a minute, then he held his left hand up. "Just a minute."

He ran back to the car, opened the trunk, and pulled out an old sled. "I thought you'd want to have this in your yard to remember Dave by," he told Angela, setting it near the steps.

"Where did you get that?" she asked.

"Oh, it's from the old homestead. I still own the place, but I rarely go back there. That's his old sled. He had it up in the barn and it has been there all these years, I guess."

* * *

At the hospital, Frank had quit listening when the conversation changed to the sled.

Instead, he was reading over the files of Maude Wikstrom, Dave and Harvey's mother. Stuart had gotten them for him.

Scanning the official autopsy report, he noted the cause of death was self-inflicted asphyxiation by hanging. But looking over some of the photos, questions began to be raised in his mind.

For starters, she had been cut down from where she had been and was sat up against a wall, head slumped. _Now, that's just fucking sloppy, _he thought, shaking his head.

Looking over that same photo, he noticed that the rope around the knot had been twisted in a strange manner. _Something's wrong here, but I can't figure out what._

Then he looked closely at the photo before looking at a couple of the autopsy photos. There was a distinct mark, almost like a bruise, on the side of her head. The report read: POST-MORTEM TRAUMA, POSSIBLY FROM BANGING HEAD ON WALL OR CEILING.

"Open room, she seems nowhere close to a wall," he grumbled aloud. "That fucking does it. Sloppy shit like that-"

He pushed a button near his bed, summoning a nurse. The moment she walked in, Frank started to maneuver out of the bed. "Get the doctor, tell him I'm leaving."

"But-" she began to protest.

"NOW!"

She quickly left, and Frank took Mewtwo's pills out of hiding and swallowed another bitter dose. He had to admit, they were making him feel a lot better. The pain was still there, but his collarbone didn't feel as badly damaged as it had been.

* * *

Karen, who Frank had called to pick him up, stopped in front of a modest-looking two-story house. "Want me to wait here?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered, "but leave the case-related stuff alone, OK?"

She nodded, and he walked up to the door and knocked. An old man, his face wrinkled and jowled by age, opened. "Can I help you?"

"Frank Caldwell, Saffron P.D.. You're Gordon Allister, yes?"

"I am," the old man replied.

"I need to ask you a few questions on an old case of yours, since you used to be the M.E. for Saffron."

"Well, sure, come on in."

Frank walked in and Allister closed the door. "Now, what can I get you? Coffee? Tea?"

"Some answers," Frank said. He dropped Maude Wikstrom's autopsy file on the table nearby.

The former Medical Examiner picked up the file, sat down, and read through it. "This supposed to mean something to me?"

"That's one of your old cases, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, but why do you bring this up?"

Frank sat down in front of him. "Your report says it was a suicide."

"Well, it was. There was nothing to suggest otherwise."

"You don't think there's, uh, anything wrong with simply cutting the body down and propping it up on the wall like a bad mannequin?"

"Excuse me?"

Frank got out of his chair and walked over, pointing out the photo. "That's not sloppy to you?"

"What are you insinuating, detective?"

"You called it suicide without even taking a closer look at the bruise on her head."

"We had no reason to do so! It was a suicide, plain as day!"

"Seems quite clear to me you weren't even going to bother doing your job."

"I don't like your tone, detective. And I don't like your attitude, either. I think it'd be best if you leave."

Allister closed the file and threw it at Frank, who had to reach out with his good arm to grab it in mid-air. "Fine," the detective replied, "as you wish. I just have one more question to ask. Did you know my father?"

The old man sighed. "I did."

"What was he like?"

There was a snort. "His attitude was as bad as yours."

* * *

Frank walked out, not looking back as the door slammed shut behind him. Karen leaned over and opened the car door. "How'd it go?" she asked.

"I guess my family has a lack of tact," he replied wryly as he got in and put on his seat belt.

They drove to his home, where Karen helped him out of the car before walking him up to the house. "Well, your mom seems to be awake-" Karen began as she opened the door and Frank walked in ahead of her, but then everything came to a standstill in the doorway.

On the couch in the living room, within range of sight, sat a middle-aged man with an unpleasantly soft midsection. His shirt was open, lending a rather vomit-inducing sight as he began picking some sort of crumbs out of his body hair. The scent of alcohol floated through the air.

Frank snapped. "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM M!"

His mother walked in, wearing only her panties but clutching a pillow to her breasts. "Oh, Frank, I didn't know you were-"

Frank pointed towards the stranger. "You haven't changed at all, have you?"

She shrugged. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I just-"

"No! No more 'I'm sorry, sweetie, I just-'! This can't keep happening if you insist on living here, especially while I'm trying to recover!"

The man on the couch got up. "Uh, if I'm interrupting something, I can just leave." He quickly exited without so much as fixing his shirt.

Ellen watched him leave, then turned back towards Frank and Karen, a sheepish look on her face. "I really am sorry, Frank."

Frank just sighed and shook his head. Ellen let out a sigh of her own and walked away.

Karen tossed her hands partway up, then let them fall to her sides. "Well? Where do I sleep?"

Frank almost whipped his head around, only to remember that he was still in the neck brace. "What?"

"I'm staying here tonight."

"You don't HAVE to."

"Yeah," she answered. "I do. So do I take the couch?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "It may not be proper etiquette, but fuck that. I'm a gentleman at times. You're taking my bed. I'm sleeping in the recliner."

He walked over to the chair, sat down, and then threw his left hand up in despair. "I can't reach the lever."

Karen sashayed to him, knelt down, and pulled the lever on the recliner, causing the leg rest to pop out and the chair to go rigid. Then she looked up at him with a seductive look in her eyes. "Will that be all?"

Frank closed his eyes. "Yes. I want to sleep."

Karen tried for a comical pout. "Really? You don't want me to help lull you gently to sleep? Maybe you have another lever that needs reaching?"

"Really, Karen, I'm very tired right now and-"

"Maybe I should set your cock free from its denim prison, rub it inbetween my soft titties-"

"Karen. Not now. I. Want. To. Sleep."

She sighed. "Fine." She straightened up and began walking towards the master bedroom, then stopped. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"

"Yes, now please let me sleep."

"You don't want me on the couch, right where you can see me, touching my soft pussy? You sure-"

"GO, PLEASE!"

Karen sighed again. "I've never known you to be too tired for any kind of sexual activity, either as voyeur or participant. Guess that just changed, didn't it?"

"Karen, I wasn't trying to be mean, I just need the sleep."

"I know, that's what I was saying. Good night."

She finally walked away, allowing Frank to close his eyes and start to will himself to sleep, trying desperately to ignore the pain.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.**

**Language, content, and violence warning:**

Frank slowly started to awaken, snorting frequently.

He felt something moving on his lower body, but in his half-wakened state, he wasn't sure what it was.

Opening his eyes, his vision cleared enough to see Karen sucking his almost-hardened cock, the hot breath of her nostrils a welcome heat on his skin, her naked breasts burning a pattern on his thigh.

A pleasured exhalation escaped his lips as she then engulfed him between her breasts, licking his already slickened tip with every rubbing motion. Skin on skin sent sensation after sensation through them both as she moved around him, squeaking noises coming from her lips as she did so. Frank's mind, in its one-track state, could only muse that she had probably had many a lover intertwined with her, within her, making her writhe underneath them, filling her with a searing flame. Somehow, the thought did not repulse him. Instead, it served to only fuel his lust.

She had begun to suck only his tip now as the titfucking continued, and with his good arm, Frank reached for her and gently tousled her hair. She smiled around him, and that did it. His breathing caught, and she raised her head, a look of gentle seduction on her face as she felt liquid warmth coat her face and breasts.

The smile was infectious. "Thanks for the wake-up call," he told her.

"I thought you could use it," she replied softly as she moved forward to kiss him.

* * *

Frank had to admit that the pills that Mewtwo had given him were working wonders. He was still in pain, although the doctors had given him painkillers for that and Karen's stimulation had taken his mind completely off the ache in his collarbone. But Mewtwo's pills, now, those were something different. It was as if he could FEEL himself healing, as if he could FELL the bone knitting itself back together.

As Karen drove him to the mall in downtown Saffron (a large mall, though not as large as that in Celadon), he stared out the window at the city he knew, the city he was sworn to protect. He had seen many movies, some as lifelike as life itself, some only an animated fantasy world. He had seen _Ghost In The Shell_ and _Akira_ many times, often either marveling or cringing at the futuristic visions they presented. When watching _Ghost In The Shell_, he often found himself captivated by the sheer beauty of the whole, with some things (the haunting score and Major Motoko Kusanagi in particular) shining brighter than the rest. Yet to a degree their worlds were much the same as his own: there were upscale sections of Saffron next to the more squalid areas, and people like him were still needed to keep order, much like in the movies he loved so much.

Now, however, he needed pencils. Specifically, charcoal ones for sketching.

Sometimes, when he had free time, Frank would watch movies and television and then make sketches of some of the characters. Sometimes, he simply drew them as they appeared in a scene. Other times, he'd envision them in his mind's eye and draw, often in various stages of nakedness or eroticism. His sketchbooks were full of nude drawings of Asuka, Rei, Ritsuko, and Misato from _Evangelion_ (often wishing he had more colors than just dreary _black_) or the Major herself. Interspersed through these might be the occasional drawing of a former lover, one who he might want to have in his book as a reminder.

He regretted not drawing Victoria when he had the chance.

His train of thought came to a stop at the same time as Karen pulled the car into an empty parking space. "Ready?" she asked.

"Yeah," was all he could reply, his voice distant.

She helped him out of the car and they walked in together.

* * *

Tristan stood off to one side, annoyed, as Victoria found herself unable to pick a blouse. _"For god's sake, Victoria,"_ he complained, _"can't you just grab one and try it out now?!"_

"_Patience," _she informed him. _"Patience is a virtue."_

"_Fuck that. I'm hungry."_

"_Well then, go over to the food court and I'll meet you there."_

Relieved, the Gallade started to walk to that destination but stopped to admire a large water fountain. The flow cascaded from the mouth of a Milotic statue, through three bowls, and into the pool below, where it would cycle through again.

"I'm guessing they don't have one of those in Goldenrod."

Tristan jumped slightly, then turned to see Frank staring at him, slightly bemused. _"Big woop, it's just a fucking statue."_

"Admit it, you like it."

"_I don't have time for that. I'm hungry."_

"Where's Victoria?"

"_None of your business."_

"Come on, she has to be around here somewhere."

"_Why do you care?"_

"She's my friend. Or at least I hope she still is."

"_Like you probably hope she's still your lover?"_

"Really? You're going to start in on THAT shit again?"

"_Well? Do you?"_

"I don't know if you've noticed, but-"

"_Yay! You're Victoria's friend! Great! LEAVE IT AT THAT!"_

"Why so possessive all of a sudden, Tristan?"

"_Listen, you back off-"_

"Hey, I'M not the one who brought it up. Or are you maybe feeling a little bit insecure about your relationship? Maybe you're worried you don't stack up compared to me as a confidant, as a friend, maybe as a lover-"

And it was then that Tristan snapped. Grabbing Frank by the front of his shirt, he tossed the human into the pool.

Frank got his head out of the water and stumbled to his feet, gasping for breath and shaking himself off as best as he could. Then, with one arm, he dragged Tristan over the edge and into the fountain with him.

From there, it descended into a fistfight: Frank defended himself as best as he could with one arm still in the sling and unable to move his neck, while the shiny Gallade used his Fighting-type abilities to his advantage, blinded by his rage at the human's accusations. At one point, Frank actually headbutted him, but found the jarring sensation on his neck to be too painful-

And then a psychic blast slammed into the water, sending the two flying backwards with a yelp.

Soaked, Frank stumbled to his feet to see Victoria breathing heavily, her face flushed with rage, her red eyes glowing furiously. _"What, in the name of everything sacred, profane, or otherwise, has gotten into you two?!"_

Frank looked down, embarrassed. Tristan turned red. _"It's my fault, I-"_

"_No! Enough is enough! Frank, you should be ashamed of yourself for physically assaulting a Pokemon! And Tristan, you should be ashamed for attacking a one-armed man! I'm taking a cab back to the hotel."_

She stormed off, and it was then that the two soggy figures in the fountain realized that everyone in the mall had seemingly frozen in place and was staring at them. Frank let out a sigh and turned to his Pokebureau counterpart. "Need me to help you out?"

"_Nah, you got that bad arm, I'll get you out."_

He pulled himself out of the pool and helped Frank to do the same before starting to squeeze some of the water from his sleeve. _"I need to go dry off."_

"Yeah, so do I," Frank answered as the two decided to head for separate bathrooms.

Taking his wallet out of his pocket, he held it under the hand dryer, knowing that this was not likely to work. As he tried to dry out the contents, he heard a deep giggling behind him. When he turned his head as much as the neck brace would allow, he was unsurprised to see Mewtwo behind him. He was, however, surprised to see that the mutant cat was far more amused than angered.

"_Oh god, you two went into the pool and he can't even beat a man with one arm and-"_ He didn't finish as he stumbled out, laughing uncontrollably.

_That's not like him or what I've heard about him, _Frank mused suspiciously.

* * *

Victoria closed the door to her room and slid to the floor.

Somehow, she needed to stop those two from killing each other over her.

And then an idea hit her.

_It's perverted, but maybe, just maybe…._


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's note: Pokemon and related trademarks are the property of Nintendo and Game Freak.**

**I'm pretty sure most of my readers have noticed this by now, but if you haven't, I'll point it out: compared to my previous two stories, this has been quite heavy in lemons. Seriously, I could open a lemon-based business with all the content from the lemons: lemonade, lemon drops, lemon bars, lemon cake, lemon candles, lemongrass….**

**OK, maybe not lemongrass but you get the picture.**

**I don't want anyone thinking I've let the sex take over the story because that was never my intention. But as far as this story goes, I have one more lemon for you all, and it is the biggest and most searing one yet (and probably my most perverse). And there IS something of a purpose or two for this as well. But this will be the last (and, compared to the others, most detailed) one in the story. I may allude to something in the final couple of chapters, but that will be as far as it goes after this one and you'll have to wait until next story for any more. I DO have a mystery to solve, you know!**

**Language and extreme sexual content warning. Trust me, this one will get wild:**

Karen stayed at Frank's house after he had changed into drier clothes and gone back to the precinct. She had gotten a good laugh out of the fight that he had with Tristan, and it embarrassed him to no end.

Back at his desk, he started sifting through the files on the suicide of Dave Wikstrom.

The first thing that caught his eye was the photo of Wikstrom's face, unrecognizable from the blood and the gunshot wound between his eyes. The shape of the wound raised a question mark in Frank's mind. It was as if the gun had been rather awkwardly held at an angle at the top of the nose where it arched into the rest of the skull.

Or as if someone else had pulled the trigger.

It was an annoying habit that Frank had developed, especially after the events of the past summer, where he tried to logically work out different ways something could have happened. If it was ruled a suicide, therefore, he wanted to open a different option: murder.

On the other hand, there was also the suicide note, poorly scrawled as if by a shaking hand: SORRY.

Frank looked through Maude Wikstrom's file again and was surprised to notice that she had apparently left a note with the exact same simple word: SORRY.

_It's probably just coincidence, _he thought. _Then again, I've never believed much in coincidences._

Mulling over the evidence and sifting through other things in the files, he didn't feel his phone vibrate at first. Then he suddenly realized it had happened. AFTER it had stopped.

Confused, he pulled the phone from his pocket.

_TXT MSG FROM: Victoria_

_Huh?_ he thought, flustered.

_Room 275, Columbia Suites, six tonight. SHOW UP._

"This makes no sense…."

* * *

Frank decided not to drag Karen into this. Instead, he drove himself. It was much harder than even he had expected, as he had to steer and signal with one arm, not to mention try to shift it from park to overdrive and back again. Which made for a lot of awkward reaching.

Eventually, though, he did arrive at the hotel. There, after he stopped the car, he hesitated.

_Why, Victoria?_ he thought. _Why would you do this when you KNOW your boyfriend is going to probably try to kill me? Why on earth would you do this, Victoria? Can't you see I've moved on?_

Sighing deeply, he got out of the car, entered the hotel, and climbed the steps towards her room.

And, much to his dismay, Tristan was standing outside the door, head on the wall.

"Oh great-" Frank began.

"_Look, Frank, I'm sorry-"_

"You threw me in the goddamned water fountain, for Christ's sake!"

"_I said I'm sorry-"_

Just then, the door flew open, and Victoria, wearing only a see-through camisole and a thong, stood in the frame and grabbed both males by the shirt fronts. _"Get in and shut up."_

Frank and Tristan stumbled in as Victoria shut and locked the door, and when they turned, she was blocking it with her body. _"Now listen, you two, I've had enough of all this fighting. It wouldn't be so bad normally, but Tristan, you ARE my boyfriend, and Frank, you will ALWAYS be a friend to me after all we've been through. But what the two of you need to understand is that neither of you is better than the other in any way, shape, or form. Not as lovers, not as investigators, nothing. This has gotten completely out of hand, and I wouldn't be surprised if it's hurting Frank's case because of it. Now I want you two to apologize to each other, NOW."_

"Sorry," Frank mumbled, staring at the floor, embarrassed.

"_Yeah," _Tristan replied quietly. _"Me too."_

"_Well, if that's settled to your hearts' content," _Victoria continued, moving towards them, _"I think I would be wise to prove my point."_

As soon as she was in front of them, she dropped to her knees and began to undo Tristan's belt with one hand while opening the button on Frank's pants with the other.

"Uh, Victoria, this really isn't necessary-" Frank said quickly.

"_Yeah, uh, I apologized! I meant it!"_ agreed Tristan.

Victoria only flashed a seductive smile towards the two before pulling Tristan's pants down, exposing his eight-inch penis to view. Frank caught a glimpse, then rolled his eyes. _Beaten by at least an inch, inch-and-a-half, _he thought.

"_Look, Victoria, I think we get the point-"_

"_I don't think so,"_ she replied as she tugged Frank's jeans down as well.

The human turned towards his Gallade counterpart. "On the count of three, we head for the door. One-"

"_Two- OH GOD!"_

Any idea of flight flew out of Tristan's mind as he was suddenly enclosed in Victoria's mouth. She started slowly, not taking all of him as her right hand began to massage the full length of Frank. The human knew then that any hope of leaving without cumming was dashed.

"Look, you really don't have to, aaaah, do this," he barely got out as she suddenly switched from sucking her boyfriend's cock to his own.

Victoria merely looked up and smiled around him as she continued to stroke Tristan while simultaneously taking Frank into her mouth as far as she could. He noticed that she was able to deepthroat him better than she could her boyfriend, but then again, some women (or female Gardevoir, for that matter) could handle eight inches and some couldn't. Apparently, she couldn't, or so it seemed.

After a while, she switched back to Tristan, her hand gliding so much easier on her ex-lover's saliva-coated cock as she continued to massage him. Frank found the whole scene to be something so completely out of the ordinary as to be perfectly normal. His legs felt like jelly as the shiny Gardevoir was now constantly going back and forth, first sucking on him, then switching rapidly to Tristan, then back to him, then back to Tristan, then back to him-

"If I have to stand much longer," Frank finally gasped, "I might just fall and re-break my shoulder-"

Victoria stood up. _"Then follow me, boys," _she purred as she slowly sashayed backwards towards the bed. Frank managed to pull off his shoes and discard his pants and boxers while Tristan stripped completely naked, making sure to keep his clothes away from his human counterpart's. Victoria, meanwhile, slipped out of her lingerie and lay on the bed, wiggling one finger in a "come hither" motion that Frank knew all too well.

Tristan climbed on the bed as well and began kissing her, his hands reaching for her breasts and gently squeezing them, causing her to sigh into his mouth. Frank, meanwhile, spread her legs apart with his good arm and his sling-restricted elbow before moving closer, her delicate slit awaiting him like a spring flower. He slowly began to tease her opening with his tongue, remembering the ecstasy of her taste, and it set off erotic shockwaves in Victoria, causing her to buck her hips in reaction. This had the effect of pushing herself closer to her ex-lover's face, allowing his tongue to dive deeper into her hot depths.

Moaning, she stopped kissing Tristan and pulled him forward until his cock was next to her mouth. She took him in again, her moans and squeaks of pleasure vibrating around him and causing his breathing to change. This was something that Victoria had never experienced, giving her boyfriend a blowjob she hoped he'd always remember while she was being eaten out from below. The mere thought of it served to further stoke her lust.

Frank was driving her towards the edge of orgasm, but as amazing as his tongue teasing her pussy felt, she wanted to hold back. She wanted it to build up until there was absolutely no way she could hang on any longer.

As she sucked Tristan's cock, keeping him stimulated while trying to keep him from going over the edge as well, she suddenly saw, out of the corner of her eye, her ex-lover get on the bed, position himself between her legs, and push in. A long moan escaped her vocal cords as Frank began to thrust, playing with her left breast as Tristan teased the other one. The thrusting began to slowly speed up inside her tight yet wet vagina, triggering sensation after sensation within her. It felt loveably twisted to her, getting fucked by her ex in her pussy while getting throatfucked by her boyfriend at the same time.

It wasn't really the best way to get the two men in her life to stop trying to kill each other, but who cared? She was enjoying every minute of it.

Frank made a waving motion to Tristan, and as the Gallade turned, the human started making spinning gestures with his hands. Understanding the meaning, Tristan pulled out of his girlfriend's mouth and pulled her on top of him as he lay back. He could have sworn he heard a noise as Frank pulled out of Victoria's now nearly dripping vagina, but maybe it was just the heat of the moment.

"_My turn," _he growled as he entered her, slowly, his eight inches just enough for her to handle as he slid to almost the very end of her.

She knew she had said that the two men were not different as lovers, but she had to admit to herself that while it was one thing for Frank to be inside her, it was another thing as far as Tristan was concerned. Yes, mostly it was because he was so much bigger, but part of it was because he was much more primal in lovemaking, while Frank had been a bit more- she hesitated to think of the word, partially because her mind was flying in too may directions at once- seductive.

The sizable length of Tristan was pushing her ever so closer to orgasm, but still she chose to hold back. Then she felt a human hand on her ass, spreading her cheeks together and apart before she suddenly felt a hard warmth slide between them. She turned and fixed a feral glare at Frank, who knew what she wanted. Steadying himself as best as he could, he began to slowly push into her asshole, setting off screams of pleasure from the Gardevoir. Tristan looked over her shoulder, and with a smirk on his face he gave Frank a "thumbs up" gesture.

Victoria had been fucked in the ass while being fingered before, she remembered Frank doing that, but never before had she experienced this. If there was any ability left for her to think clearly, it was gone. The piston-like thrusting inside her, coupled with Tristan's rubbing her already hypersensitive nipples with his thumbs, sent her flying dizzily towards her peak and so far off the edge it was ridiculous. Her vagina, stimulated to the point of no return and then some, tightened around Tristan and she came, her fluids leaking out between them and squirting all over the sheets.

Then Frank pulled out of her ass and went straight back to her pussy as Tristan sat up, propping himself against the wall as Victoria greedily went for his cock. She had barely enough time to come down from her peak before the human sent her right back up it, his finger working her clit as he moved inside her. It did not take her long to cum again, and Frank could feel her warmth getting that much hotter, and he knew he could take no more.

Sensing this, Victoria waited for him to pull out, her cum still dripping from them both. She got down on all fours, and neither male had to do anything else as they let go, coating her face with their sperm, letting it drip from her tiny, almost non-existent nose into her mouth before she licked the rest off their tips.

Satisfied, all three collapsed to their backs. Frank could feel no pain at that moment.

"Well," he finally said, "that happened."

"_Yeah," _Tristan agreed. _"I, uh, wow."_

"_I have never felt so hot before in my life," _Victoria remarked.

"_Yeah, you were great. Wasn't she great, Frank?"_

"_You don't need to ask him, he already knows, remember?"_

"_Haha, yeah, I forgot."_

"_Not bad for a one-armed man, Frank. I would have thought you were left-handed if I didn't know any better."_

"_My god, this bed is going to be fun for the maids to clean up-"_

_LEFT-HANDED?!_

Frank suddenly sat up, the abrupt thought in his head turning him pale with shock. "Oh my god."


	17. Chapter 17

**Author'snoteIdonotownPokemonorrelat edtrademarkslanguageadultcon tentandviolentcontentwarning becausenowthisstoryisgoingto getreallyreallyinsaneWAAAAAA AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!**

**And apologies to anyone who is offended at all by what gets discussed in this chapter. I mean it:**

Tristan propped himself up on his broad elbows and fixed Frank with a confused look as the human sprang off of the bed as best as he could and searched frantically for his pants and underwear. _"What's the matter?"_

"Where are my pants? I need to find my phone!"

"_Frank, is something wrong?" _asked Victoria, a worried look on her face.

Frank didn't reply. Instead, he found his pants and dove into the pockets, pulling out his phone and quickly dialing a number. He waited, then: "Commissioner, it's Detective Caldwell. I need an arrest warrant immediately."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," was the reply on the other end. "Slow down. What's going on?"

"I know who our killer is."

"Why don't you just get over and SHOW me what you're talking about?"

"Right, I'll get Agents Stillwater and O'Meara and be right there."

He hung up and turned towards the bed. Tristan was already searching for his clothes while Victoria was in the bathroom desperately trying to wash the semen from her face. "I see you didn't wait for me to explain," he remarked.

"_The moment you mentioned who you were calling, I had a hunch we were needed," _Tristan answered as he started to hastily push his belt back through the loops on his pants.

* * *

The three marched right over to the entrance to police headquarters. No sooner were they inside than the commissioner, Hopfmar, and Stuart strode up to them. "So what's going on?" Commissioner Steele asked.

"I'll show you," said Frank, running up the stairs. Tristan and the commissioner were barely able to keep up. Hopfmar followed behind, with Stuart and Victoria taking up the rear. Stuart looked at the Gardevoir and found himself staring at something.

"Uh, Agent Stillwater," he said in a low tone, "there seems to be something, uh, white in your hair-"

Victoria quickly reached for a tissue from inside her pants pockets and wiped her hair with it. She then shot a stern glare to the human before quickening her pace, leaving him behind.

"Was it something I said?" he asked, not expecting any sort of answer.

Frank worked as fast as he could with one arm, sticking photos and papers to a board using magnets. He then pointed to the photos of Maude Wikstrom. "What do you see here?"

"Hanging victim, possible suicide," Hopfmar answered.

"But, what direction is the twist in the knot going?"

"_Left-handed knot," _Alex, who had been alerted by Hopfmar about the incoming storm, replied.

"Exactly. Now look at the birth certificates for her two sons. Notice something about the signatures?"

"Hers are right-handed," Stuart offered.

"Exactly. Notice this bruise on the side of her head?"

"I think we get the point," the commissioner interrupted, "but what does this have to do with the other cases?"

Frank pointed to the photos of Dave Wikstrom. "See the similarities? That shot was either fired at an awkward angle by a man who was not left-handed-" Here he pointed at Jeremy's birth certificate. "-Or he was murdered by someone who was."

"_I think I know who you're talking about," _Tristan stated.

"Harvey Wikstrom. Exactly."

"_Just a sec, let me see if he has any gun records," _Alex got out as he ran to his computer.

"All right, explain," Steele requested.

"There are only two suspects who would know the precise routine of the Wikstrom family. And Esteban Soriano is right-handed."

"That's great, but what about motive? With no motive, you're not likely to get a damn thing out of a judge."

"The only thing I can come up with is that he knew my father was on his trail and decided to kill him to try to put an end to the investigation."

"But that only covers your father."

"That's all we need, isn't it?"

As if on cue, Alex came floating over. _"Sure enough, Harvey Wikstrom has a .22 caliber pistol, and has had it registered since 1983. Same caliber as the bullets used in his brother's death as well as your dad's, Frank."_

The commissioner stood up. "It's flimsy, Caldwell. But I'm making a call. Hopefully it's not wasted."

* * *

Much to her surprise, the warrant came.

And thus it was that most of the Saffron police force along with the two Pokebureau agents soon found themselves speeding through the night to the residence of Harvey Wikstrom.

Frank was silent and stern as he rode in the back of the SWAT van, a bulletproof vest somehow worked around his neck brace and sling. Stuart, Victoria, and Tristan could not help but feel concerned just watching him.

The van came to a stop, and the SWAT team leader turned to them all. "We're here, Detective Caldwell. How do you want to proceed?"

"Treat him as armed and dangerous," Frank said, his voice barely audible.

"Right. Everybody out!"

Two of the other SWAT members grabbed assault rifles and exited the van. Frank hesitated a moment, then grabbed a single-barrel pump-action twelve-gauge shotgun. Victoria, who had grabbed a recording device on a hunch that it may come in useful, gasped. _"A twelve-gauge, Frank? Isn't that a bit much?"_

Frank refused to answer, jumping out of the van and carefully running up to the door with the others. He then looked at the SWAT leader and held up three fingers, then reduced the number to two, then one, then pointed at the door.

Moments later, the door imploded. "SAFFRON P.D.!" shouted the team leader as the rest of the team along with Frank, Stuart, and the two Pokebureau agents surged in.

A search of the house, however, turned up empty.

"He's not here, Frank," Stuart said after they were finished.

"_Didn't he say something yesterday about there being another property in the family?" _Tristan offered.

Frank pulled out his phone without saying a word in reply. "Alex, see if there are any other properties registered to Harvey Wikstrom."

"_No problem, just give me a sec to rapidly type and pint and click and all that fun crap and well here you go, Frank. He has an old farmstead at W7562 Suoh Road."_

Frank hung up without another word. "W7562 SUOH ROAD, LET'S GO!" he yelled as he stormed towards the van.

Victoria ran to catch up and put her hand on his arm. _"Frank, I know the man probably killed your father, but you can't let your anger cloud your judgment like this."_

"I want him brought in alive, Victoria. I want to look into that motherfucker's eyes and know why he killed my father before I could even remember him."

"_But, Frank-"_

Frank walked faster than ever, opening the door of the van and getting back in.

* * *

Frank knew as soon as he saw a car in the driveway of the farmstead that they had him.

As the combined forces of the various law enforcement branches began to swarm towards the house, he looked around him to get a visual feel for the surroundings. There were several dilapidated outbuildings, dull with neglect and age. An old barn stood on a slope, one of those old types where they would pull the wagons full of loose, dry hay into the upper level and use giant forks to move the hay into a loft above. The floor, however, seemed bare from a distance, except for a thin dusting of snow. He thought he saw a large wooden beam hanging from the rafters, but he wasn't sure.

The house, small, was in not much better condition than the rest of the buildings, and the SWAT team leader barely had to touch it for it to crash to the floor. They rushed in again, Frank at the rear.

As they searched, Tristan noticed that there was a back entrance, and the door was blowing slightly in the wind. Gun drawn, he carefully exited, having to withstand a drop of about a foot and a half as the stairs that were there once were gone.

And then he heard the sounds of snowbound scrambling, and as he turned, he saw Harvey Wikstrom stumbling through the snow towards the barn. Tristan took off in pursuit, gun raised, but Harvey spun around and fired a shot of his own.

_SHIT!_

The Gallade felt a sharp pain in his left arm as he collapsed. He dropped his Glock instinctively and put his hand over the site of the pain, then withdrew his hand.

_Blood. The fucker shot me in the arm._

"_Oh my god, Tristan, are you all right?!"_ yelled Victoria as she rushed to the sound of the shot.

"_Yeah, I'll be fine, it's just my arm. He went to the barn. BE CAREFUL!" _he added as she ran off.

Wikstrom had had a headstart but Victoria was much lighter on her feet, and she soon started to close the gap as they both started running uphill. He got there first and fired another shot, forcing her to duck behind the wall. She could feel the impact of bullet on wood but did not hesitate to return to her pursuit. Wikstrom began climbing a ladder that led to one half of the loft. Victoria, however, spotted a hole in the sidewall, and, taking a running start, she leapt, pushed off on the hole, and virtually launched herself to the loft.

She landed on old hay, which was so brown and moldy that it had to have been many years old. She got to her feet and, remembering her recording device, quickly checked to see if it was on. It was.

She looked up again just in time to see Wikstrom finish climbing and point the gun at her. "Well," he began, a desperate look in his eyes, "since we're alone, how about I tell you a little story about two boys growing up on a farm in the old days with a mentally disturbed mother?"

_Sweet Arceus in heaven, _she thought ruefully, _why do I ALWAYS get stuck with the weirdos?_

* * *

As soon as Frank heard the gunshot he bolted for the back door, keeping the twelve-gauge as steady as he could as he flew outside and hit the snow running. He turned as he landed and, after almost losing his balance for a brief moment, ran as fast as he could, SWAT team members behind him.

Tristan heard the landing and waved with his good arm. _"FRANK, I'M OVER HERE!"_ he yelled.

Frank charged through the snow and seconds later was kneeling down next to the wounded Gallade. "Hold on, man, we're gonna get you some help-"

"_He's in the barn, Frank. Victoria went after him. I'll be fine, just be careful going in there!"_

Frank turned to the SWAT leader. "Is there a bus on the way?"

"We got one on standby," replied the man.

"Good, call it in, then follow behind me. Stuart, you're coming with me, but hang back on the way and stay outside the barn. The rest of you, wait until they get Agent O'Meara out of here safely."

With that, Frank was off. Stuart counted to three, then followed.

* * *

"Now, my father, we didn't know him for long," Harvey was saying, waving his gun around but occasionally steadying his aim at Victoria, who had her own gun raised. "He died in a factory accident when we were little. So it was just us and our mother.

"Now everything was just fine until I was about fourteen, fifteen and he was eleven, twelve, something like that, my memory is still just a tad bit fuzzy. I don't know if you noticed when you went through there, but in that old house, the bathroom is right across from my old bedroom upstairs. And my bedroom was next to his. Well, nothing out of the ordinary ever happened, until one day, Dave was taking a bath, and I was sitting on my bed, just reading some comic books. I hear a knock from the hallway, and our mother is like, 'May I come in, Davey?' And then she just opens the door, we never kept it locked, and she goes in. I didn't think much of it then. Hell, all I wanted to do was read my comic books.

"But then it happened again about two weeks or so later. Again, I didn't think much of it, at least at first. But then I start hearing strange noises. I had never heard noises like those before. So I sneak out of my room and go to the door, just to listen, like. And I hear her saying things like, 'Ooh, that's so good, do you know how much Mommy likes it when you touch her there? She likes it a lot.' I don't have a damned clue what she's talking about or what's going on, so I just real careful bend my head down so I can see through the keyhole, and…."

He stopped a moment to wipe his head with the hand that still held the gun, causing Victoria, who had a sinking feeling she knew where this was going, to tense up and tighten her focus down the barrel of the Glock.

"She was sitting on the toilet, lid down, and she was naked as a Zapdos, and she had her legs spread out, and she was having him-" He winced at the memory. "-TOUCH her there. And I didn't even know what to say.

"Maybe if I had said something, you and I wouldn't be standing here with guns pointed at each other and other men with guns running around wanting to kill me. But I didn't. I'm ashamed to admit that a part of me enjoyed seeing it. Maybe that's normal, maybe it's not, I'm no fucking shrink. But I didn't know then that that sort of thing was illegal, really. But what the hell is some biologically messed up teenager who is just starting to learn some things about sex himself supposed to do, really?"

_Good Lord, this whole family is fucked up, _Victoria thought.

"Except it didn't stop then. It started happening once a week, then once every couple days, then every single day, then much of the time when we kids were home. A day rarely went by when she wasn't using my brother to get off. And you want to know something, Agent? A part of me was repulsed. She was our MOTHER, for god's sake! But a part of me was upset because IT WASN'T ME SHE WAS FUCKING! That's right, she was fucking MY BROTHER, HER SON!"

He started to choke up, his hand shaking as he held the gun, still aiming it at Victoria, who was growing more and more uneasy by the second. "It went on for about a year or two. I never said anything, I mean, who could I tell? And she always told him never to tell anyone, or all their 'special time' would be taken away.

"Finally, I got up the balls to confront her about it. She was in the kitchen, and she had just got done sitting on the floor, messing it up because she stuck a goddamned wooden spoon in herself because Dave went to summer camp with his friends so he wasn't there to cater to her. And she's sitting on the floor, calling out his name, and when she was done, she got up and put the spoon in the sink, and then she saw me. 'Oh Harvey, I didn't see you there.' 'Why, Mom? Why are you doing this to him?' 'Harvey, your mother has needs, but she can't just go out and marry somebody for that, it's too soon.' 'Mom, our dad has been dead for years! Why can't you move on?' 'I don't want people to talk!' 'Well, what if I start telling people what you do to my brother?'

"'I know it's not the right thing to do to him, but I-' 'HE'S MY BROTHER, MOM! YOUR SON! CAN'T YOU SEE WHAT YOU'RE DOING TO US?'

"And then she said it. 'It's because it's not you, isn't it? You're just mad because it isn't you!'

"I couldn't bear to hear anymore. I wanted to shut her up, maybe warn her that I'd go to the police. So I reached out and I grabbed a pot off the stove and… I HIT her…."

He started sobbing. "I only wanted to make her stop, but she hit the floor and there was blood all over the place and she was convulsing, and all she could do was say, 'Please help me.' Just that. She was crying, I don't know. Then she stopped.

"I freaked out. I grabbed a rope, tied a knot, wrote a fake note, tied her to the rod in her closet, and let go. And then I turned and ran. I cleaned all the blood up from the floor, but then my brother walked in and saw me cleaning the pot and he ran and found her and he knew. I begged him not to say anything, that I was trying to help him, that she wasn't healthy, that she was messing him up. And for years, he was quiet. We never said anything."

* * *

Frank silently crept up the hill, then as he reached the entrance of the barn, he turned and motioned for Stuart and the SWAT team leader to stop. Then he went inside.

He could hear Harvey Wikstrom talking, so he took advantage by quickly yet quietly moving towards the ladder. Placing the shotgun carefully inside his sling, he began to climb, using his left arm to pull himself along.

* * *

"But then, in '85, he began talking about selling the place. Great. I had no problem with that. But then he started talking about our mother again, saying he felt insecure around Angela, like what Mom did to him screwed him up. Said he wanted to see a therapist.

"I said, 'Goddamnit, Dave, you know what's gonna happen? They're gonna ask for every little detail, and if you tell them, I'll go to jail, and they'll probably say you're an unfit parent and they'll take your kid from you!'

"'But I can't keep acting like none of it happened, Harv. It did.'

"So one night, I decided to scare him into shutting up. I broke in the house while they were asleep and I took Jeremy. I figured I'd keep him a while, let Dave worry, then give him back and say shut up.

"But Jeremy's death, that was an accident. Crib death. I had him in his crib and went to sleep for the night on the second day, and when I woke up he was dead. I panicked again. I knew that it was going to look like I killed him myself, so I decided to hide the evidence. And yes, I set him on fire. And yes, he was dead before I did that.

"And then the police started crawling around, and that one detective was starting to worry me. He was starting to dig around. I knew he had nothing, but I wanted to make sure it stayed that way. So one night, I waited until he left work, then I just walked up to him and shot him.

"All was quiet for a week or two, then I went over to see Dave, who I thought didn't have a clue what happened. I knock on the door, and he answers like, 'What the fuck do you want?'

"I told him I wanted to see how he was holding up, and he says, 'Bullshit! I know it was you who took him, Harvey! You think I'm going to stay quiet about what you did to our mother after this?'

"I noticed he had a gun on the table. I guess he had gotten paranoid after the kidnapping, so he got one. Anyway, I picked it up and stuck it in his face and told him to shut the fuck up.

"'Or what? You'll call the cops? That'd put YOU in prison, Harvey, and you'd DESERVE it!'

"I couldn't take anymore. I shot him on the spot, then I wrote a fake note, dropped it, then stuck the gun in his hand and shot into a pillow so he'd have gunpowder on his hands and I'd be free."

He laughed, putting the gun to his face again. Then he stopped and pointed it at Victoria again. "Oh well, thus is the sad story of the Wikstrom family. Too bad the only ones now who know the whole story are you and me."

"And me," said a voice behind him.

"Huh?"

Harvey turned and saw Frank standing in the loft.

As he turned, Victoria fired, the bullet lodging in Wikstrom's elbow and causing him to drop the gun.

At the same time, Frank raised the shotgun and shot one of the ropes holding the beam over Wikstrom's head.

The rope snapped, causing the beam to swing down and smack Harvey, sending him flying from the loft to the floor below. There was a sickening set of cracks, followed by agonized, frantic screaming as the other rope snapped, causing the beam to fall and land on the loft with a crash.

The detective and the shiny Gardevoir lowered their guns. "Are you all right?" Frank asked her.

"_Yeah, I'm fine. You?"_

"Meh, just remind me to never climb a ladder one-handed again."

"_I got him recorded, by the way."_

"Good thinking."

Hearing the shots, Stuart and the SWAT team leader ran inside just in time to see the beam fall. Stuart looked up at Frank, horrified.

"Was that excessive?" Frank asked.

"Shit, you THINK?!"

Frank turned to Victoria. "That was excessive, wasn't it?"

"_Yeah, that was pretty excessive."_


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's note: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.**

**Again, my apologies to anyone who was offended by some of the things brought up in the previous chapter.**

**Well, it's taken me long enough, but here it is: the final chapter of this story. Of course, there's more stories in the Saffron Justice series to come, but I'm going to take a bit of a break after this one and finish a one-shot I'm working on before starting the next entry in the series.**

**Language warning:**

Commissioner Steele strode up to Frank as Harvey Wikstrom, still screaming in pain, was being loaded into an ambulance. "What the hell did you do to him, Caldwell?" she demanded.

"He had a gun pointed at Victoria, so I shot the beam down. I didn't mean for THAT to happen. I just wanted to knock him out."

He looked at Wikstrom again. The man's face was covered in blood, crushed from the impact of the heavy wooden beam. He was probably missing teeth, his jaw was probably broken, his nose appeared to have been smashed flat, and one cheek seemed displaced. Both of his legs had been bent at anatomically impossible angles upon landing. If he hadn't suffered severe internal injuries, Frank would have been surprised.

As it stood, the detective merely shrugged. "Eh, he'll probably live. He'll just need some serious repairs done before trial."

"_For what it's worth," _added Victoria, who was next to him, _"we got his confession recorded. Every sordid detail. He may be messed up physically, but I think he may be more messed up mentally."_

Steele said nothing for a while. Then she looked back at Frank. "Depending on the circumstances and what happens later, what you did could land you in hot water for excessive force. That being said, good… good work…."

She couldn't bring herself to finish. Instead she turned away. _Choking on her pride again, _Frank thought.

The medics finally managed to reach the other ambulance, a stretcher-bound Tristan in tow. Frank and Victoria went up to him. "You're gonna be OK, Tristan," the human said.

"_Yeah, I know. Bullet's stuck in my arm, but they'll get it out, no problem."_ He glared at the other ambulance. _"BUT IF I HAVE TO BE ANYWHERE NEAR THAT MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL KILL HIM MYSELF!"_

Victoria climbed in the ambulance as they loaded her boyfriend up. _"I'm going with him, Frank, OK?"_

"Go right ahead," he responded.

Stuart walked over, Hopfmar close behind. "Think I'll follow behind. You coming?"

"Nah," Frank answered. "I got some stuff I need to take care of first. Call me when Tristan gets out of surgery so I can check up on him, OK?"

"Got it."

Frank watched him get in one of the police cars and drive off, then turned to Hopfmar. "Captain, could you drive me back to the precinct and then over to Angela Wikstrom's residence? There's something I need to do."

"Well, let's go, then," Hopfmar answered as they walked towards his car.

* * *

Frank walked up the steps to Angela Wikstrom's house and knocked on the door. Seconds later, she opened. "Why, detective, I didn't expect to see you here! Come on in!"

"Actually, I just wanted to stop by and say that it's over. We got him."

"I heard something about a standoff on the news, but they didn't say where or why. Was that what it was all about?"

"Yes."

"So, are you able to tell me who it was?"

"It was Harvey."

"Oh my god," she breathed.

"Yeah, long story, not sure I want to tell it yet. I only know some of the details because Agent Stillwater filled me in on them. Suffice it to say, though, that Harvey killed his mother when he was younger and swore Dave to secrecy. When Dave started to waver on that commitment, Harvey kidnapped Jeremy."

"Oh my god…."

"He claims Jeremy died from SIDS. We have no way to prove it one way or the other. Then, when he felt my father was getting too close to the truth, he shot him, then cornered Dave and killed him too."

"It wasn't suicide?"

"No."

There was silence for a while.

"Well," she finally said, "thank you for all you've done, detective."

"There's one other thing." He handed her a large brown envelope. "I should have told you this, but when we did the DNA test to determine whether Jeremy was alive or not, I had your husband's file re-opened so we could access the clothes he had been wearing for a DNA sample from a bloody patch."

He handed her the envelope, and she opened it up. She read the document inside, then closed her eyes as a tear began to stream down one of her cheeks.

"Dave would have been proud, Mrs. Wikstrom," he said softly. "I have no doubt your son could've done the two of you proud."

"Th-thank you, d-detective," she sobbed.

* * *

The boxes sat opened on Frank's desk.

_You know what to do, right?_

"Yeah," he replied aloud.

He placed the lids on each of the boxes and scrawled CLOSED in black marker on each one.

Until he got to his father.

There, he stopped, his right hand shaking in the sling.

_Dad… we've done it. You and me, we've done it._

And then, for the first time since he opened the case that left him fatherless, he let his head fall to the desk and let himself cry.

* * *

He opened the door and trudged inside his home, his eyes worn from tears but still able to see his mother and Karen sitting at the kitchen table. Ellen looked at him and smiled. "I hear you had a pretty busy night at work," she said.

"We solved the case," he replied quietly.

"You mean your dad?" Karen asked.

Frank could not speak, only nod.

"Well, I guess it's closure for us, isn't it, sweetie?" his mother mused. She got up and went to a cabinet. "You know, I saved something for if they ever found who killed your father. I figured," she continued as she produced a bottle of what Frank could only assume was whiskey along with a few glasses, "we could finally stop waiting."

She sat down and poured a small amount into each glass, giving one to her son and one to the Dark-type Elite Four member before pouring one for herself.

Frank lifted his glass with his left hand. "To giving our ghosts peace."

They took a sip from their glasses. There was a pause for a second or two, then the loud sounds of spitting and groans as the three reacted badly. "Sweetie," gasped Ellen, "you should have closed the book sooner."

Karen was wiping tears of pain from her eyes. "Yeah, this is a bit harsh to say the very least."

Ellen pushed the bottle towards her son. "Want to dump this outside?" she asked. "I don't want it to go down the sink because I don't want it to vaporize the pipes."

Trying to smile but failing, Frank picked up the now re-capped bottle and walked outside. He stood there in the snow, feeling the wind begin to pick up, the flakes coming down again. He breathed in the air, felt the cold in his lungs, and also felt a presence. He looked around, and to his non-surprise, there was Mewtwo, wind blowing his cape. "I should have known."

"_I came to offer my congratulations, Detective Caldwell," _the mutant said. _"I should imagine that this has to be of some comfort to you and your mother."_

"Well, the closure is nice. It can only do so much, but…."

His voice trailed off, but then he remembered the bottle in his hand. "You want this? My mom saved this for this occasion, but it's not quite what we had expected."

Mewtwo silently took it, opened it, and took a swig. Then he shuddered, put the cap back on, and gave it back. _"I see what you mean."_

Frank smiled. "So, will I see you around still?"

"_I have not much to do, nowhere much to go. So I will still be around."_

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

He heard his phone ring. "Just a second." He picked up. "Caldwell."

* * *

Frank and Karen walked into the hospital, where the others were waiting. Also there was a man in a suit whom Frank did not recognize. "Numerous facial injuries, bruised internal organs, several cracked ribs, both legs broken," he snapped. "What kind of brutality do you encourage your cops to use, anyway?!"

_Another fucking lawyer._

"If you want to try to push the issue," Steele retorted, "I'm sure that there are witnesses that will attest that what happened was nothing more than an unfortunate accident."

"He's in so much pain, he's not thinking clearly! He's insisting he wants to plead guilty when we go to trial!"

"Actually," Frank chimed in, "he already DID confess. It's all recorded if you want to argue. Is it admissible? I don't know, but we have it."

Before the lawyer could speak up, Frank resumed walking towards Tristan's hospital room. It was only then that Victoria noticed the bulge in the sling.

Tristan's eyes were almost closed and his head was slowly but steadily flopping back and forth on his pillow as Frank walked in. "Told you you'd come out just fine."

"_Yeah, yeah, I know,"_ the Gallade replied. _"It's gonna be a while before I can use this arm again, though."_

They chuckled, then fell silent.

Tristan broke the silence. _"Look, about what I said a few hours ago. I really am sorry for my behavior, Frank. I guess I let my jealousy and my love for Victoria block out my common sense and decency."_

"You're not the only one who needs to apologize. I've been a total asshole over the whole thing. It's my fault that-"

"_No, Frank. It's not."_

Frank decided not to argue, but the end result was more silence.

This time, the human broke it. "You know, even after her near-death experience, even after the alcohol, I don't think Victoria and I would have gone as far as we did if it hadn't been for something else."

He pulled a box of Swiss rolls from his sling and handed to Tristan, who raised an eyebrow. _"Seriously? Swiss rolls?"_

"Trust me, she LOVES those. You give her one and she's putty in your hands, muchacho."

The shiny Gallade chuckled. _"Well, I'll take your word for it," _he said as he slipped the box under his bedsheets. _"So, you think maybe you and Karen can go out with Victoria and me after I get out of here? You know, a double date or something?"_

"I'm afraid not. Karen's going back home in the morning."

"_Oh, well that's a shame."_

Frank couldn't think of anything to say. Instead, he got up to leave-

"_Hey, Frank!"_

The human turned. "What?"

"_Victoria and I are moving out here as soon as the branch is set up. I'm looking forward to the three of us working together more often. Just, you know, with less fights and less forced threesomes."_

Frank smiled. "I'm looking forward to it too."

* * *

About a week or so later, a group of people walked through the snow, coming to a stop at a headstone.

Frank Caldwell knelt down first and set a rose on the top. "Well, Dad, we did it," he said, quietly, although he knew his mother and Angela Wikstrom were right there to hear him. "I just wish you could have been there to see it."

He got up and stood aside for Ellen to place a rose next to his. "We sure made a great thing together, didn't we, Drew?" she asked, her speech slurred from alcohol. "A really great thing."

Frank helped her take a place next to him as Angela laid a third and final rose on the grave of Andrew Caldwell. "Thank you, detective. Thank you and your son for everything."

They all stood there for a while, lingering in respect to the dead, then went back to their vehicles. A light snowfall began to come down, coating the deep red of the blooms until they were hidden in a soft cover of white.


End file.
